


Drinks and Subtle Things

by cloverfield, FarenMaddox



Category: Cardcaptor Sakura, Kobato, Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle, X/1999
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drug Addiction, Drunkenness, F/F, F/M, Fujitaka is Team Dad, Genderqueer Character, Kurogane angst, M/M, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Rock Stars, They are ROCKSTARS okay they do what they want, Threesome, like enough Kurogane angst it deserves a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:51:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 91,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverfield/pseuds/cloverfield, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FarenMaddox/pseuds/FarenMaddox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between terrible childhoods and the pressures of fame, being a rockstar isn't that much fun... except it totally is. Fai drinks to cope, Kurogane tries not to, Sakura kicks ass, Subaru needs love, Fuuma is stuck in second grade, Kamui is pissed at the world, Touya and Yukito are quietly husbanding and playing backup, and Tomoyo is just wondering how a classical violinist winds up in the middle of all this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  _. . . A scar_  
 _I know I gave it to you months ago_  
 _I know you’re trying to forget_  
 _But between the drinks and subtle things_  
 _The holes in my apologies you know_  
 _I’m trying hard to take it back_

 

They’d decided together that only Fai and Sakura would sit for the interview.  They judged the two of them were the most interesting members.  Unless you counted Subaru.  They were still trying to keep him out of the public eye and let him recover in peace, and the guy from _Rolling Stone_ had better remember their warning not to ask questions about what had happened to him.

Still, Touya and Yukito came along.  They were unobtrusive in jeans and tshirts, their hair unstyled and their backs turned toward the room.  Just a couple of guys drinking at the bar, but ready to step in if anything went wrong.

Fai and Sakura joined the reporter at the table.

“Hi, welcome, great to meet you, I’m Robert,” the young man said.  Fai tried not to judge him for the hipster beard he was sporting.  Some people just didn’t know any better.  “What are you drinking?”

Sakura, who’d been legal for all of three weeks, ordered a Long Island and ignored the fact that Robert seemed impressed that she wasn’t impressed.  Fai didn’t like any of the beers on tap so he asked for a Midnight Cowboy, which he then had to explain to the bartender.

“Great movie,” Robert commented when they all sat down.  Robert was drinking PBR.  Of course he was.  He had a neck beard.

“I love old movies,” Fai grinned, crossing his long legs in front of himself.  This was the beginning of the interview.

They talked about movies for a few minutes, with Robert directing questions at Sakura whenever she perked up over a title she recognized.  When she didn’t know the film, she settled for waiting until Robert was looking at Fai, then making faces across the room at her older brother.  She was careful not to call Robert’s attention to them, though.  They didn’t want to be interviewed.  They’d already been the young ones making a name for themselves, once, and they were content to stay out of that part of the game.  Leave it to the newbies.

They talked awhile about comic books, which was Sakura’s hobby when she could be pried off the drumset for fifteen minutes.  Fai could have chipped in there, but he didn’t.  She deserved the limelight, deserved to be fallen in love with.  And they would.  They would trip over themselves when they realized she knew which superheroes belonged where, in addition to being a powerfully talented musician.  (She was also very pretty, but that went without saying.  Just look at her, with those jewel-green eyes and cherry-pink lips.)

Eventually talk turned to more relevant, less comfortable topics.

“You guys have had a big year.  A really, really big year,” Robert said, having switched to Long Island iced tea himself after remembering why Pabst was a bad idea.  Fai had hurried his way through the bourbon and decided this painful interview in this muggy, sticky town called for mojitos.  Sakura was still working on her first drink.

“I guess we have,” Fai said pleasantly, letting out a lilting laugh.

“I mean, you guys have been nominated for awards, you’re all over the internet, your concerts have been sold out all summer, your song was in the top ten for seven weeks.  Tell me how it feels.”

The better question was how it felt to go through this inane process that had Robert just as apathetic as they were.  They could have done this over the phone.  Although then he wouldn’t get drinks on the company dime.

“Damn good,” Fai laughed.  He nudged Sakura, letting her know they could open up a little and be honest.  They had an adoring public, after all.  “You have no idea how grateful we are for the support.”  Totally true.

“I’ve been blown away by the fans,” Sakura admitted, a nervous habit causing her to scrub her hand through the hair at the back of her neck.  She’d put enough gel in the faux hawk that it was left undamaged.  “When we were getting started, all the advice we were given said that a rock band would never make it with a female drummer.”

“It’s out of the ordinary, but you guys have definitely made it.  Sakura, anything you’d like to say to the doubters?”

She grinned easily.  “I already did.  I said, ‘Bring it on.’  I think the sold-out shows speak for themselves, at this point.”

Robert laughed along with them.  “Still, you guys must have faced some challenges, especially trying to sell Sakura’s talent.  Any particular incident stand out in your mind?”

“Our third gig,” Fai said immediately, causing Sakura to scowl with remembrance.  Fai told most of the story, but he gave Sakura the finale in which she’d grabbed a guy by his junk and informed him with nothing but sweetness that drumming had given her very strong hands and she might be able to castrate him.  Robert was wide-eyed with delight at having a tough-but-sweet girl he could write about, and Fai caught Touya grinning over at the bar.  He’d probably never been so proud of his sister as that day.

They told a few stories from the early days, they joked about Sakura being the only girl on the tour bus, they squashed the rumour that they were starting their own clothing line.  They promised that as soon as the tour was over in November, they were all going back to Chicago and hitting the studio for a new album.

“Oh, I write all the time,” Fai said when Robert asked when they’d found time to compose new tracks for the next album.  “We’ve only released two albums, I have at least the bare bones of forty songs for us to try, not to mention some covers that we want to look into making official.  The cover we played of ‘Hey Jude’ at the Grammys has something like three million hits on Youtube.”

“Fai, we’ve all seen your skill with music.  You seem to play a little bit of every instrument they can throw at you.”  He’d been known to take over Touya’s keyboard, to pick up a guitar for a song or two, to drag out a mandolin or an accordion or a flute or on one memorable and infamous occasion, a trumpet.  “Do you write all the music yourself?”

“Absolutely not,” Fai said, grimacing at the very idea.  He was good at starting things.  The others were the ones good at finishing them.  “I’ll sketch out a concept, and that’s when everybody else jumps in with their own ideas.  We decide together on whose instrument will be dominant in a piece, who will do backup vocals, that kind of thing.  I get lyrics from a thousand different places, and often from the rest of the band.  I think all musicians are magpies to some extent.  Me more than most.”

Sakura nudged him with her foot.  “Don’t let the charming humility thing fool you.  He does take suggestions and he’s very fair, but the stuff he writes is brilliant.  We’re all lucky he came along.”

Despite himself, Fai felt warm at that.  It was hard sometimes.  He was the one who had come along.  Didn’t fit in, hadn’t already been there.  But it was true that he was the driving force of creativity, and there would be no Paper Cranes without him.  It was somewhat reassuring.

“Let’s talk a minute about what you write.  About lyrics,” Robert said, and Fai grinned.  Sakura nudged him with her foot again, but she was shaking her head and smiling absently into her empty glass.  They’d been waiting for Robert to get to this; they’d been waiting for this since someone had put one word in neon in the lyrics in a Youtube video and started pointing it out to everyone.  This was the question he’d been waiting to ask until he thought he had them loose and relaxed.

“Pinocchio,” Fai said.

The Paper Cranes’ number one hit.  It sold out their concerts, got them the Grammy nomination, put Sakura on the map.  The spiraling darkness of the drum solo was nothing short of a miracle.  They all swore she grew an extra set of feet for the bass pedals that nobody could see when they performed ‘Pinocchio.’  Plus everyone liked the cynicism of the lyrics.  It had a subtitle.  The song was actually called ‘Pinocchio (Lying: A Love Story)’ and the crowd’s cheering grew a savage edge every time Fai sang about the bullshit lovers feed each other.

“Pinocchio,” Robert agreed.  “Need another drink?”

“God, yes, I do.  ‘The words are cheap/all I need is you/baby go to sleep/she doesn’t look at you like I do.’  Those are the lyrics, yeah?”

“She,” Robert said.

“She,” Fai said agreeably, sipping another mojito and wondering if he should switch to water.  It wasn’t like he was actually done drinking, but he didn’t want _Rolling Stone_ to put him down as an alcoholic.  It was so fucking cliché.  He’d be cliché in private, thanks.

“There’ve been a few different interpretations tossed around about that,” Robert said, like they didn’t know.  “If the song really is about a man singing to a woman, which is understandably the assumption, then the interpretation is that the woman might be bisexual.  But then people have considered that it’s actually meant to be from a woman’s perspective, which is ballsy of a male singer to do.  Then of course there’s the interpretation that it’s about a male homosexual couple and the errant partner is bisexual.  You’ve got the world in an uproar about _your_ sexuality, now.  So let’s lay it to rest: which interpretation is correct?”

“Yes.”

He and Sakura snickered at each other at the frustrated, confounded look Robert wore.

“Yes?”

“Yes.  It’s all of them.  I wrote the song for everyone in a relationship.  Don’t limit it with questions about the gender or sexuality of the narrator _or_ the singer.  Just let people enjoy the music, man.  That’s what it’s for.”

“What about you, Fai?  Are you willing to lay the question of your sexuality to rest?  I assume it hasn’t escaped your attention that people are highly divided over the idea of a rock star being gay.”

“Fucking hell, really?  Our keyboardist and bass player  got a photo taken of them making out behind the tour bus last year and somehow the gender of the narrator in a song is what has people talking?”

Touya and Yukito preferred to keep their private life to themselves, but they’d never made any big secret of what they were.  It had been pretty well-known among the more loyal and earlier part of the fan base, enough so that the paparazzi photo had barely even made a splash.

Still, Yukito’s ears had turned pink over at the bar and Touya was hunched over and glowering.

“It’s your refusal to answer the question that has people curious, Fai.  You act like you’ve got something to hide.  It’s got people upset.”

What he meant was, they were in the background and people didn’t always know their names.  Fai was the singer, the spark, the front man.  Girls threw underwear at him, among other things.  Fai could have gotten mad at the implication that Touya and Yukito, who had started all of this, were less important than he was.  Instead, he just shrugged.  “That’s the thing, Robert.  I _don’t_ have anything to hide.”  He spread out his arms.  “I haven’t got any boyfriends, girlfriends, no secret lovers.  If I ever fall in love, I’ll be sure to inform the public of their gender immediately.”

Sakura snorted.  “I don’t see what this line of questioning has to do with our music,” she spoke up.  After having been quiet so long, it seemed to startle Robert.  “I don’t see you asking this about anybody else in the band, and I don’t remember any recent interviews in your magazine where other artists got hounded about their sexuality.  Why don’t you ask me about mine?”

Sakura wore torn leggings, clunky knee-high boots, a loose tshirt with a picture of Audrey Hepburn on it.  The chunky cuffs on her wrists seemed to accentuate the cords of muscle in her arms.  She had nine ear piercings and a bar through the back of her neck, plainly revealed by her spiked-up hair  The flowers she was named for were tattooed in a giant swath up across her chest, shoulder, and down one arm.  She looked wild and dangerous and not a little questionable.

Robert’s face was regretful.  “We all know the story about your old boyfriend, Sakura.  I know it’s been some time, but I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Why?  Did you know him?” she asked, over-sweet.  Then, “Come on, Fai.  The interview is over.”

Fai was the one who hadn’t been there.  The outsider they’d brought in after things fell apart.  But maybe that was exactly the reason that as Touya and Yukito swooped in like a pair of guardian angels, Sakura clung to Fai’s arm instead of theirs.

 

* * *

 

_(three years earlier)_

“Dear God, I just figured out who’s singing,” Touya muttered, nudging Yukito with his elbow and nodding surreptitiously across the room.

Yukito’s eyes tracked the direction and found the middle-aged woman whose muffin top spilled over a pair of very, very skinny white jeans.

“I don’t want anybody else/and when I think about you/I touch myself,” she sang tremulously, eyes on the floor.

Yukito winced.  “I really hope somebody takes that lady home tonight.  She’s pretty.”

“You volunteering?” Touya asked wryly, signaling the bartender for another vodka-whatever-this-was.  The slender, gorgeous blond slid up and poured quickly, flashing an easy grin before hurrying on to all his other customers.  Karaoke night seemed to be busy around here.

“It’s a good night to be a gay man,” Yukito said slyly, not only squeezing a little too high for decency on Touya’s thigh, but sending a surreptitious glance at the bartender’s ass.

Touya laughed and wished they had gone someplace where he could have made out with his boyfriend for that.  Still, karaoke had sounded like fun at the time.  Neither of them had been around music very much the past few years, and they both missed it.  All of it. They missed the crowds, the opening acts, they missed scouring videos and recordings for new skills to pick up, they missed practicing every day, they missed performing— They missed Kurogane.  But Kurogane was too caught up in missing Syaoran to miss them, so . . . Music had been scarce, lately.  Karaoke sounded undemanding and simple.

It had been pretty fun, so far.  They’d both been studying too much.  The Long Goodbye had gotten big enough that they’d all dropped out of college, but the past two years had seen them throwing themselves into their respective degrees (engineering for Touya, pre-med for Yukito, who was thinking about becoming a physical therapist).

Neither of them was interested in singing tonight, themselves. But it was nice to be surrounded by people who just liked music for its own sake.  Even if they all sucked.  Every. Single. One of them.  Touya was trying to pretend he hadn’t heard some stupid kid _butcher_ The Who half an hour ago.  At least he had the blessing of not really knowing most of the country songs and therefore not having to realize how poor the performances of them were.

“Okay!” the karaoke host said cheerfully.  “We’ve had a lot of requests for a particular song tonight, sung by a particular person!  Fai, I’m afraid the crowd just isn’t going to let you get away tonight.  I know you tried to beg off earlier, so I’ll give you choice of song if you want, but everybody wants to hear you sing ‘Livin On A Prayer.’”

The crowd was laughing, roaring approval, clapping.  Having no idea what was going on, Touya and Yukito joined in the applause.  Why not?  Their ears were going to bleed when the singer inevitably screeched through that last high note, but they’d probably already been through the worst the evening had to offer.

It was quite a surprise when the microphone went hand-over-hand and ended up in front of the blushing, protesting bartender.  God, he even blushed pretty.  Neither Touya nor Yukito was a jealous lover, being as they were so incredibly secure in their relationship, so they both took a moment to appreciate it.

After a moment of fumbling with the microphone, the first notes of the music started.  The bartender (Fai, wasn’t it?) . . . changed.  A weight pressed down on his shoulders, even though he kept smiling.

Then he sang.

Yukito’s hand gripped Touya’s under the edge of the bar.  “Oh my god,” he breathed.

For all he hadn’t wanted the mic in his hands, Fai was a performer born.  His voice was clear and vibrant, he had the whole crowd listening and cheering, he was pulling antics with anyone near him and grinning.  People were whistling and clapping.

He hit the high note.

He made it sound _good_.

What the hell?

Then it was over, the crowd was applauding again, and he was ducking his head and scurrying around with a bottle of rum in one hand and three dirty plates in the other.

“Touya,” Yukito gasped, his hand still gripping tight enough to hurt.  “That’s him.”

“Who?”

“The singer.”

“What singer?”

“The one we need to start the band back up.”

Touya had pretended for two years that he didn’t want that.  He’d pretended that engineering was a good enough dream and that music had just been a childish thing, The Long Goodbye was a garage band who’d accidentally got a break and it was never meant to last.  Because there was something they weren’t going to get back, no matter how they might wish for it.

“Kurogane’s not going to—”

“Maybe not.  I wasn’t going to ask him until we talk to Fai and find out if we’ve got something to ask him about.”

They waited outside.  They waited for over two hours, until the bar was cleared out and shut down and cleaned up.  Finally, Fai emerged with a coworker and headed for a dingy little pickup truck.

“Hey,” Touya called, rising up from where he’d been leaning on his own boring Honda.  He’d gotten rid of the beat-up minivan when the band broke up and there was no more equipment to haul around.  “Hey, Fai.”

He whirled around, muscles tense, eyes nervous.  “What?”

“We just wanted to talk to you, that’s all.”

“I have a gun.”

“Wow.  Not that kind of talking.  We were inside.”

“I remember.  Vodka cranberry.”

“Is that what it was?  Ugh, no wonder.  Anyway, we heard you sing.”

“You can hear me sing every Saturday night.  Almost always the same song, unfortunately, but—”

“Fai, have you ever thought about singing professionally?” Yukito asked, stepping up beside Touya.

That shut him up.

“We’re starting a band.  Well, restarting, more like.  Ever heard of The Long Goodbye?” he asked with good humour.  The answer tended to be “no.”

Fai’s eyes went wide and stunned.  “Oh my god.  You’re Yukito.  The bassist.  You— you’re amazing!”  He turned his eyes on Touya.  “You’re Touya?”

“Yup.”

“Is Kurogane here?” he asked, turning his head from side to side to scan the emptied parking lot.

“No,” he answered past the tang of bitterness.  “No, just the two of us.  You’re probably hungry, right?  You were working hard in there tonight.  There’s an all-night IHOP two blocks over.  Let’s talk.”

Fai tossed a gym bag into the cab of his truck and turned around.  “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

They were splurging on motel rooms tonight because they were in Left Armpit, Missouri or something like that and they were all desperate to escape the humidity.  It was turning Kamui’s hair curly and therefore he was snarling and rude.  Luckily the motel was cheap and mostly vacant, so the only person who was sharing a room with him and forced to put up with it was his brother.

Fai kind of wondered if the other roadies got jealous of the fact that Fuuma and Kurogane usually got treated like members of the band, but it wasn’t as though they were trying to play favourites.  It was just that Kurogane sort of was a member, and Fuuma basically went everywhere that Kurogane did.  Those two had been their entire road crew when they’d started, so it made sense that they hung around the musicans more than the other techs.

At the moment, they were all crowded into the room that Fai, Fuuma, and Kurogane were ostensibly sharing.  Kurogane seemed likely to slip out and sleep in the equipment trailer to get away from the noise, and Fuuma seemed likely to be murdered in a fit of grumpy rage if he didn’t leave Kamui’s hair alone.  Fai might end up with a room to himself after all.  Fai had pulled out all the equipment for his Wii and started an impromptu Super Smash Bros tournament, which after seeing the general mood of everyone seemed in retrospective to have been a bad idea.  Subaru was silent, Kamui was pissy, Kurogane seemed tired, and Sakura was declaring that she needed to study.

Mostly his regret was tied to the way Sakura was cheerfully kicking his ass.  Fai had a Wii, an old Nintendo 64, and an Xbox he dragged around and was reigning champion of all three.  Unless he was playing against Sakura, who seemed to _destroy_ him in every combat game he owned.

Dinner was crinkly bags of chips and a 24 pack of Corona that Fuuma had gotten at Circle K.  No one felt like finding a grocery store to put together a more substantial meal.  Fai glanced over at Sakura during a pause and found her with a mouthful of Cheetos and a beer in the hand that wasn’t holding the controller.  He laughed to himself.  All joking with Robert the hipster reporter aside, she made it easy to forget there was a girl in their band.

“I’m going to go study, guys,” Sakura said after a few more minutes of owning everyone.  “I’ve got a test tomorrow.”

There was a chorus of goodnights and one proud “thatta girl” from Yukito.  Touya was the one who’d insisted she had to take online classes or she wasn’t allowed to travel with Paper Cranes, but Yukito was the one who helped her study and made sure she stayed on track.  She’d had to repeat a year of high school because she’d missed so much after the accident, so she was a little behind with college, but she said she’d have her associate’s degree by Christmas.

Sakura tossed her controller to someone, and Fai started to give his up to give someone else a turn.  But then Kurogane sat down beside him, the cheap motel bed sagging under his weight and tilting Fai toward him.  Fai scooted over to balance things out and didn’t say anything.  Kurogane wouldn’t have taken the opportunity to play with him unless he wanted to talk, so Fai would wait until he said what was on his mind.

Things were . . . not easy, between the two of them.  Not bad, exactly, just . . . not easy.  Fai tried to keep a good rapport with everyone, and he knew Kurogane was approachable if not friendly with most of them, but somehow the two of them always felt better keeping their distance from each other.

“What’s up, man?” he said casually, just to make some noise.  Fai could be in a room with other people where no one was speaking, that didn’t bother him—but when it was Kurogane, the quiet somehow felt heavier than with anyone else.

“Nothing,” Kurogane mumbled, already working on his usual gaming strategy of pounding his opponent to death.  Fai was quick enough to dodge, so Kurogane was going to have to get more creative if he wanted to win, here.  “How was the interview?”

“Boring, mostly.  Guy was kind of a putz.”  Fai almost said, _“worth it for the free drinks”_ and then remembered who he was talking to.  Kurogane was drinking water and didn’t seem concerned about the bottles piling up around him, and Fai knew he tended not to get emotional about his former alcoholism, but saying something like that would sound like Fai was baiting him, which he wasn’t.

This was why things were not easy.  Talking was like walking through a minefield.

“He ask?”

“Ask what?” Fai replied innocently.  Okay, so occasionally he baited the guy.

“About Pinocchio, stupid.”

Kurogane managed to land a hit and moved in for the kill while Fai’s character was reeling.  Fai frantically moved to retreat.

“Sorta.  He mostly was just trying to be the guy who reported my coming out, so that was all he really cared about.”

“So is he going to be?”

Fai’s eyes jerked sideways to Kurogane, startled.  The question had, up to this point, only been asked by reporters and fans, while the band and crew minded their own damn business.  Kurogane, the guy he was _least_ friendly with, was going to be the one to step over the line?  
   
“I meant did you answer.”

“Oh.  No.  Fuck ‘im.”  Fai managed to land a hit that left Kurogane’s character stunned, so he decided sauce for the gander was sauce for the goose and started beating on him ferociously.  “I know what you wanted to ask.  Don’t worry about it.  I didn’t mention you.”

“Good.”

“We had a quick huddle before the interview, actually, we decided I’d just take all the credit,” Fai grinned, knowing how much of an asshole that made him sound.

“Kamui was okay with that?”

“He agreed that it was safest, considering that the public’s freaking over the whole thing right now.  Better to just let me take the fall if there’s going to be one.”

Kurogane was hunched over his controller, scowling ferociously as he tried to fend off Fai’s attack.  He just grunted an acknowledgement.

“Of course he wasn’t okay with it, he’s pissed as hell.  What do you think he’s so pissed off about tonight?”

Kurogane’s eyes flicked to Kamui briefly.  He was strung tight as a wire, talking to Subaru and attempting to ignore Fuuma, who was oh-so-innocently playing a handheld game while repeatedly putting his feet in Kamui’s lap and getting them shoved right back off.

“I figured it’s cause the humidity makes him look like a poodle.”

Fai snickered.  “Two blows to his ego in one day, poor thing.”

“It’s not exactly fair.”

“Yeah, well, life isn’t.”

 

* * *

 

_(one year, three months ago)_

“Who had an orange freeze shake?”

“No, no, the paper has to be focused on pre-Revolution stuff, I can’t talk about Washington’s tenure in office,” Sakura told Yukito, using two pencils to drum out a rhythm on the table while she supposedly worked on a draft of an essay for her online history course.

“Fuuma, cut it out!” Kamui shouted, using a napkin to wipe the back of his neck.

“Hey, Subaru, you okay?” Fai nudged the quiet man at his side, but Subaru just kept frowning.  “Did you get another letter from that goddamn creep?”

“I’m fine,” Subaru answered, picking up a chicken finger and nibbling at it.

“Anybody over here get an orange freeze shake?”

“Hey, you stole my fries!” Fuuma snapped at Kurogane, clutching at his plate jealously.

“Kamui, here, what do you think?” Fai asked, shoving a page of chicken-scratch lyrics across the table.

“No, something still feels off,” Kamui muttered, picking up his pen and crossing out a line, scribbling another possibility.  “Cut it the _fuck out_ , Fuuma!” he hollered over the divider between booths, swiping at another spitwad that had landed in his hair.

Touya shoved the remains of his hamburger aside and put his head down in his hands.  “Yukito, I’m going back to the bus.  I'm too old for this shit.”

“Hang on, babe, I’ll go back with you, let me just try to get the name of this book really quick for Sakura,” Yukito replied, typing on his phone.

“ _Hey!_ ”

Everyone in all three booths shut up simultaneously and stared at the waitress who was standing there looking murderous.

“Did one of you order an orange shake.”

“Oooo, me!” Fai said happily, waving his hand.

It was plunked down in front of him with possibly more force than necessary.

“Thanks sooo much, sweetheart,” Fai said, giving her a million-watt smile.  “I’m just trying to get something right and I tend to get a little distracted when I’m working.”  He winked for good measure.

“That’s— no problem—” the woman stuttered, face turning pink.  “E-enjoy.  Let me know if you need anything.”

“Absolutely,” Fai said, grinning until she was gone.  Then he scowled down at the change Kamui was suggesting.

Kamui threw his hands up in the air.  “I don’t like it, either, but it’s still better than what you had!”

“Ugh, we’re writing a song about _lying_ , this should be _easy_ ,” Fai groaned.

Subaru stole his shake and tasted it.  “That’s really good,” he said with delight.  “I’m gonna get one when she comes back.  He craned his neck to see the paper better.  “You should put in something about their ex.  Something . . . I don’t know.  They don’t want you back?”

“Maybe,” Fai said, narrowing his eyes.  “See if you can come up with a second line that rhymes with ‘back’ and doesn’t suck.  You can have this,” he added, sliding the shake over.

“Um, you don’t want it?”

“I like it, but I don’t think it’s making my eyes light up the way it does yours.  You are clearly getting more out of it than I am,” Fai smiled, nudging him and cajoling him into taking the drink.

Subaru smiled softly and took it, and made Fai wonder all over again how this quiet and shy kid had ever wanted to be in a rock band.  Kamui was glaring at him in that “ _hands off my twin_ ” way he had, except maybe Fai was just getting the twin-glare confused with the Fuuma-glare because he used both of them so often, because when he opened his mouth it was to roar,  “I _swear to God_ , Fuuma!”

Kurogane thumped the lighting technician on the back of the head as he stood up from the booth they were sharing with Touya.  “I’m going to the john.  Try not to get killed, you moron, I need you.”

Kurogane was officially in charge of their sound equipment and mainly focused on guitar tech, but unofficially he was the manager of the entire road crew.  Fuuma was good enough at his job that Kurogane would probably miss him if Kamui actually slit his throat.

Kurogane passed by their booth on his way to the bathroom and his arm stretched out in front of Fai’s face.

“Here.”

A napkin fluttered down and Fai pinned it with his pen and dragged it closer.  
  
 _Don’t mind spending words when they’re cheap_  
 _All I ever wanted was you_  
 _Baby stop talking and to go sleep_  
 _She never looked at you the way I do_

“Hooolyyy shit,” Fai drawled, eyes wide.  “Kamui.  Kamui, Kurogane just wrote our song for us.”

Kamui snatched up the napkin and studied it, and his fingers were twitching on a phantom guitar.  “Lines are too long for what I’m hearing,” he pronounced, setting it down.  He was humming the phrasing he wanted, and Subaru was sitting forward with interest, humming his own guitar’s counterpoint.

“It’ll work,” Subaru said.  “Just shave it down a little. Simplify.  It’ll work.”

Fai’s head was bobbing, beginning to hear the song.  “Yeah.  Sakura!  You’ve got some serious work to do with this one!  We’ll start going over it tomorrow!”  Sakura gave him thumbs up and went back to drumming on the edge of her table while Yukito read over her draft.  Kurogane was walking past again on his way back to his seat.  “Hey, Kurogane!” he said, snatching at one heavily-tattooed arm and stopping him.  “She?  Why she?”

Kurogane shrugged.  “Why not?  Sounds better that way,” he said simply.

This was probably the closest Fai had ever been, physically, to Kurogane.  He found himself staring at the design worked into his arm.  Some kind of Asian dragon, a water motif, lots of blue and green, this was the most gorgeous sleeve piece Fai had ever seen, and there was the other arm with all the red and orange and some kind of feather pattern that he wanted to see, too . . .

Kurogane tugged his arm free.  “Dude, you want a picture, or the name of my tattoo artist or what?”

Fai smiled sweetly up at him.  “Yeah, sure.  Would fanmail be weird? Because I want to write your artist fan letters.  Damn, that is cool.”

“Thanks,” Kurogane said gruffly, then pulled out his wallet and tossed money in front of Fuuma.  “I’m beat, I’m going back to the bus to crash.  If you wake me up when you come in, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“You say the sweetest things to me, baby,” Fuuma said, distracted in the process of making another spitwad to shoot at Kamui.  Then he looked up and grinned.  Touya had already vacated the booth to go lay down on the empty side of the one where Sakura and Yukito were studying, so Fuuma was alone in his booth.  He jumped up and slid into their booth next to Kamui.  “I wanna see what you’re writing.”

“Go the fuck away.”

“No.  It’s about lying, right?  You lie to me all the time, this should be cake.”

“When do I lie to you?”

“You tell me that you hate me and you want me to leave you alone _all the time_ ,” he pouted.  “Such hurtful, callous lies.”

“Subaru, for the love of God, switch places with me.  I am still eating and I’m not abandoning my food because of this cretin.”

Fai watched Subaru and Kamui slither underneath the table to switch seats and wondered how he’d ever thought being a bartender was an exciting job.  His life was freaking cool.

 

* * *

 

Kurogane and Fuuma were both outside checking on the rest of the crew and making sure the equipment was locked up tight for the night.  They had only a short drive to St. Louis for their show there tomorrow night, but they wanted to be up early so everyone could check out the city sights before they started setting up.

Fai locked the bathroom door and gnawed on his lower lip for a minute.  If they were getting up early, he should get to sleep soon and that made this a bad idea.  But he was getting pretty antsy and he didn’t think he was going to be able to sleep anyway.  He’d better.

“Just enough to take the edge off,” he muttered, pulling the baggie out of his pocket and flipping his wallet open to get out a credit card.  Just a little. Sprinkle it on the counter, and carefully line it up with the card.  He’d pocketed his drinking straw at the bar earlier and borrowed Kamui’s pocketknife a few minutes ago to cut it in half.

Fai bent over, snorted, and straightened up all in one movement.  “Guh,” he gasped, sniffing rapidly.  He rinsed the straw out in the sink before throwing it away and used a wad of damp toilet paper to make sure the counter was clean and wipe around his nose.  He stayed in the bathroom for a couple of minutes to make sure his nose didn’t start to bleed.

The eyes looking back at him in the age-spotted mirror were mocking him.

“I’m an idiot.  I know.  So fuck you.”

Kurogane and Fuuma were coming back in, bickering about something.  Fai pasted a smile on before unlocking the door and sauntering out.  Maybe he’d go sit outside on the stairs and write for a while.  Would he be keeping anyone awake if he took his guitar out there?  Probably.  He’d just work on lyrics or something.  He could sleep tomorrow afternoon while everyone else was checking out St. Louis, that town was a hole and there was nothing he wanted to see.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered with each step out of the room after bidding the other two goodnight.

His life was such a fucking joke sometimes.


	2. Chapter 2

_now I know that I'm not  
all that you've got  
I guess that I, I just thought  
maybe we could find new ways to fall apart_   
  


 

“So where are we again?” Sakura asked, draping herself over a sound board and letting out a gusty sigh.  
  
“Uh . . . Shit,” Fuuma answered distractedly, trying to untangle a snarl of wires.  “Kurogane, where the hell are we?” he shouted.  
  
“Boston, dumbass.”  
  
“Right,” Sakura mumbled, closing her eyes like she meant to take a nap right where she stood.  “Do we get a night off soon?”  
  
“Two days off, starting tomorrow.  We've gotta drive to Miami,” Kurogane said as he came over and nudged her off his equipment.  “You all right?”  
  
“We haven’t had a break since St. Louis,” she sighed.  “What’s it been, two weeks?”  
  
“Something like that.”  
  
He was looking at her fondly and his arm half-reached toward her, but it was an aborted move and he went back to messing with the buttons on his sound board.  Sakura sidled up to him and carefully snuggled her way under his arm.  
  
“Hey,” she said softly.  “You think you’re not allowed to give me a hug, or what?”  
  
“I didn’t . . .”  
  
“When did I say you’re allowed to stop being my family, huh?” she added, pinching his side through his tshirt.  
  
Kurogane started to pull himself away from her, but she wrapped both arms around him and clung.  “You— shit, Sakura.  You know I—  Syaoran was the only thing that—”  
  
“Bullshit,” she said firmly, not giving him an inch.  “You’re my honorary big brother forever whether you like it or not, so suck it up and gimme a real hug.”  
  
He stopped fighting her off and just hugged her as ordered.  “Only because girls are scary when they’re angry,” he sighed.  
  
“Thank you.”  She finally let him go, but only so she could help sort out the snarl of wires  She wasn’t leaving him alone just yet.  “So how are you?  I feel like I haven’t talked to you in forever.  Things have been hectic.”  
  
Kurogane just grimaced.  “Same old, I guess.  Why?”  
  
“Because for aforementioned reasons, I care?  Hey, did you like that book I gave you?”  
  
“The one from your lit class?  Yeah, it wasn’t bad.  You got anything new for me?”  
  
“Not lately.  My summer classes suck.”  
  
Kurogane snorted.  “You say that every semester.  You don’t even like school.”  
  
“Yeah, but Touya’s right, I need to finish.  I have to set an example for all these other uneducated idiots, right?” she joked.  She didn’t judge any of them for not finishing school, but she was willing to listen to her older brother’s advice and keep going for herself. As far as she knew, Touya was the only one among them who'd achieved a college degree.  Kamui and Subaru had never even finished high school.  “I at least want to get the associate’s, just so I have a jumping-off point if I need it later.  I don’t even know what I’d focus on if I went for my bachelor’s degree, I just . . . All I’ve ever wanted to do, I’m already doing, you know?”  
  
“Yeah, I do,” Kurogane said quietly, and reached out a hand to ruffle her hair.  “Ugh, how much gel do you put in this?”  
  
Sakura just grinned.  
  
“Not that I don’t like this, because you look good, but how come you chopped it?  Your old hair was pretty.”  
  
She restrained herself from further teasing him—that was one of the most big-brother things he could have possibly said but pointing it out would just make him standoffish again.  She tried to think of a good answer, because cutting off her hair had been rather spur-of-the-moment but she really liked how it had turned out.  “Just felt like doing something new, I guess,” she sighed, staring up at the stage where a team of people was starting to get things set up.  It wasn’t their people, it was a couple of the arena’s employees and the members of the opening act.  “Hey, Kurogane?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“If you ever want to get up there and play with us . . . That would be cool.  Just, you know, one night for fun or something.”  
  
“No,” he said firmly.  “But, um, thanks.”  
  
Yeah.  She’d already known what his answer would be, but she’d just wanted him to hear her say it. “Kurogane?”  
  
“Seriously, Sakura, _don’t_.”  
  
“Will you make sure Ellen is in charge of bringing out my drum set?  She’s the only one that takes good care of it.  And I like checking out her ass when she’s not looking.”  
  
Kurogane looked startled for a minute, then he started laughing.  Good.  He didn’t do that enough.  “You really are something else, kiddo.   I didn’t even know you—well, anyway. Yeah, I’ll make sure it’s Ellen.”  
  
“You’re the best,” Sakura said with a wink, and sauntered away.  She hadn’t thought it would be such a huge priority, after the accident, but for some reason she could not rest until she had re-mastered sauntering.  It was hard to do with the way her legs were, but the sassy last word in a conversation was just a necessary part of a girl’s repertoire.  
  


* * *

  
  
( _five years, two months ago_ )  
  
The phone was ringing.  Kurogane had his head buried under a pillow to escape the sunlight that was insisting he should arise for the day, and he groaned when the telephone jumped in with its opinion.  
  
He didn’t get a lot of phone calls, anymore.  He hadn’t been answering them for three months and nearly everyone had stopped trying.  There was one person who still left a voicemail sometimes, and Kurogane buried himself yet further under his pillow when that voice started sounding from the answering machine over on the kitchen ledge.  He’d fallen asleep on the couch while watching t.v. again, it seemed.  
  
“Hey.  Um.  Hey, man, it’s Touya.  Listen.  I know that things are . . . I know you’ve been . . . Listen, I’ve been trying to leave you alone.  But it’s about Sakura.  The therapy clinic is releasing her to go home tomorrow, and we were thinking that we’d have a welcome-home party.”  
  
Kurogane felt his pulse pounding dully in his head.  _Shut up shut up shut up shut up_  
  
“Nothing big, just a little get-together, some of the people who care about her, you know, just to say we’re glad she’s coming home.  I . . . I know it would be hard for you, but I know you love Sakura and it would mean a lot to her.”  
  
He only had twenty more seconds before the machine cut him off.  Twenty seconds, tops, and then Kurogane could jump up and delete the message and never have to think about this again.  But his head pounded and his mouth was dry and he wanted to puke.  Twenty seconds was a long time.  His heart, which had been through enough the past few months and which he’d thought had totally died by now, just given up and crapped out on him, throbbed dully at hearing his best friend’s voice.  
  
 _Shut up shut up shut up all of you just shut up  
_  
“Listen, man, I won’t bring up the band or anything, I promise, it’s just, we miss you and—”  
  
Kurogane was across the room and snatching up the phone in a flash, not thinking about how much he missed this voice, how much he missed everything because more than all of that he missed _Syaoran_ —  
  
“Shut up, shut up for the love of God Touya just stop it,” he blurted into the phone, wiping away a clammy layer of sweat on his forehead.  “I can’t— just stop talking, I can’t deal with it.”  
  
“Kurogane.”  Touya’s voice was fuzzy through the line, but he could hear the wonderment and shock.  “H-hey.  It’s good to hear your voice.”  
  
“Don’t, okay?  Just don’t.  Just hang up and _go away_.  I am fifty-seven days sober and I am _not_ starting back at zero again, so just _leave me alone_ before I . . .”  
  
“Fifty seven days, huh?” Touya said softly.  “That’s . . . that’s really great news.  I’m happy for you.”  
  
“Oh fuck you, you aren’t happy at all.”  
  
“Kurogane?  Don’t.  Don’t you fucking _dare_ question me.  I am fucking happy for you, okay?  I mean, I didn’t know where you were, if you were . . . I haven’t heard from you in three months, you know.  I didn’t know what was going on.  I’m happy enough that you picked up the phone.  Thank you,” he finished on a snarl.  
  
Kurogane let out a weak, rusty chuckle.  “You’re welcome, you sorry bastard.”  
  
There was a long, deep silence.  
  
“How are you, Kurogane?  Really?”  
  
“Uh . . . I don’t know,” he admitted.  His attention was caught by his own arms.  The dragon and the phoenix had been outlined months ago but only a third of the colouring was done.  He’d made and broken two appointments with his artist for another session.  He barely left his apartment unless he needed food.  He didn’t think he’d done laundry since he’d stopped sweating through his clothes a couple of weeks into sobriety and it stopped seeming necessary.  He took a whiff of his shirt and grimaced.  “Not that great?”  
  
“Yeah.  Can we do anything?”  
  
“No,” he said forcefully.  
  
“Do you at least want to come by for dinner or something?”  
  
“No.  I’m not coming tomorrow, I don’t want help, I don’t want to see you guys.  Leave me alone, seriously, man.  I _can’t_.  Just stop trying.”  
  
“No,” Touya said plainly.  “I get that you don’t want to see us right now, okay?  But no, I’m not going to stop trying.  We’ve been friends since we were fifteen, dude, I’ve seen enough of your ugly side to know whether or not I want to walk away.  And I don’t.  Got it?”  
  
Kurogane slid down to sit on the floor and put his head between his knees.  “Yeah, I got it,” he choked.  
  
“I’m not going to bother you about coming over anymore.  But you know the door is open if you ever show up.  That’s from me, Yuki, _and_ it’s from Sakura.  She keeps asking about you.  She misses you.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I never thought she was all that sane and rational.”  
  
Touya chuckled.  “She’s a loud-mouthed brat is what she is.  I’ll try to keep her from bothering you.  For a while.”  
  
“Hey.  Is she— how is she?”  
  
Touya gave that a moment of silence, maybe to acknowledge what it cost him to ask or maybe just to find a way to phrase it that was different from the pat answer he gave to everyone who asked.  
  
“She’s all right.  She’s still hurting, her legs are still pretty messed up, and she, uh, she cries a lot, cries herself to sleep most nights, but . . . She’s tough, you know?  She’s trying.  She’s glad to be coming home.”  
  
“Yeah,” Kurogane said, and then couldn’t say anything else.  “Hey, I gotta get going soon, I have—” he looked at his outstretched arm again.  “I have an appointment.”  
  
“Hey.  Take care of yourself, since you won’t let us do it.  Fifty seven days and counting, right?  And just . . . Keep in touch.  Please.  You don’t have to see us.  But just let us know what’s going on once in a while, okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” he said softly.  “Okay.”  
  
It took him half an hour and a cup of coffee before he mustered up the strength to pick up the phone again.  He called his tattoo artist.  
  
“Yo, Jenny, it’s Kurogane. I’m good.  Yeah, you?  Swell.  Listen, I want to make an appointment.  I swear I’m going to keep it this time.  No, I actually promise.  I haven’t been . . . But I’m doing better.  So.  No, actually, not this time.  Well, yeah, of course I want to get them finished.  I just want something else first.  It’s gonna be small.  Just.  Yeah.  Thursday?  Great.  Thanks.”  
  
He got up on Thursday, late in the morning, and threw on his freshly laundered clothes, thinking to himself _fuck yeah I did laundry and I’m leaving the house in the same week_ and _sixty days and counting_ and _miss you Syaoran miss you so much I can’t even fucking breathe and I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry_  
  


* * *

  
  
Fai and Sakura were going over the set list for the show one last time while the roadies were scurrying around, getting things set up in earnest.  The show was starting in less than an hour, with some local skapunk band opening up for them.  Trumpets were blaring somewhere behind the stage, warming up.  Fai’s attention was caught by a gleam of sweaty skin, and he looked over.  
  
It was an outdoor venue, and in Boston’s muggy late summer it was sweltering.  Kurogane had taken his shirt off while hauling equipment around.  He wasn’t the only guy to have done so, but he was the only guy who looked that damn good in nothing but blue jeans and a pair of work boots.  Sweat was running down the back of his neck and dripping over the gigantic tattoo that covered most of his back, a Japanese demon-mask head, red-lacquered and grinning ferociously.  His arms had originally been done with half-sleeves that stopped at the elbow, but new things were being added all the time and flames had started licking up one arm while waves and water spirits were cresting up toward the other shoulder.  
  
He had an ornate rolled-up scroll, with two swords crossed behind it, surrounded by falling sakura blossoms on his ribcage, low on his right side.  But the front of his torso was nearly bare.  (All the better for staring at the cut of his abs, _God Almighty_.)  But only nearly.  
  
On his left breast, over his heart, there was something so simple and so different from the colorful intricate designs on the rest of his body that it screamed for attention.  Just some words.  _Syaoran_ it said in larger letters above, and below, slightly smaller, _April 1st 1991 - March 28th 2007_.  There was a funny little paw print beside the name, like a small dog had stepped in ink and walked on his chest.  
  
Fai was so very, very glad that he’d been a fan of The Long Goodbye and had known about the circumstances of their breakup before he met Kurogane.  Otherwise he would have opened his big fat fucking mouth and joked about old Kurogane’s dog had been and how much he must have loved it.  
  
He still didn’t really know the significance of the paw print.  But he did know that Kurogane’s younger brother had died three days before his sixteenth birthday.  
  
That was what had caused Kurogane to quit the band he’d fronted just when they were starting to make it.  There had been rumours that he was an alcoholic at the ripe old age of twenty two, and then suddenly he was joining AA and getting sober and going to school to become an _electrician_ of all the mundane things to be.  The next part, Fai hadn’t learned from the media or from being told, the next part he’d learned for himself through some quiet and skilled observation  
  
 For some reason, despite the fact that Kurogane hadn’t been there, he seemed to think that car accident that had killed his brother and nearly taken Sakura had been his fault.  
  
Somehow, managing their road crew instead of getting up onstage with them was Kurogane’s penance.  Fai had no right to pry into that.  But God, he wanted to sometimes.  He _knew_ what Kurogane could do with a guitar, had been to one of their concerts and _heard_ him sing—a fact he’d kept to himself.  He’d love to hear it again.  It _did things_ to him.  
  
A band only needed one lead singer.  Only needed one front man.  
  
Fai had no doubts about who would front The Paper Cranes if Kurogane ever found a way to forgive himself for Syaoran’s death.  So he kept his mouth shut.  
  
“You know, there’s really only one way you could be more obvious,” Subaru said, right in his ear.  Sakura was ogling a woman from the road crew and hadn’t noticed where Fai’s attention was, and Fai jumped at the way Subaru had snuck up on him.  “ _Rolling Stone_ hasn’t published the new issue yet.  There’s still time to call Robert back and make that announcement.”  
  
“Oh, screw you,” Fai muttered, embarrassed at being caught without being too worried.  He was safe with Subaru.  And now that Sakura was looking at him with her eyebrows raised, he suddenly had the thought that despite Kurogane being practically a member of her family, she probably wouldn’t mind his staring and probably wouldn’t rat him out.  
  
“I just missed something,” she sighed, when Fai didn’t respond to her questioning look.  “Damn.”  
  
She probably wouldn’t be bothered by it, but that didn’t mean he was just going to blurt out that Kurogane’s ass in those jeans was a work of art.  There was a difference between being caught and volunteering the information.  
  
Fuuma dropped something and Kurogane snapped at him.  Fuuma snapped right back, and they got in each other’s faces for a minute before heading off in opposite directions in a huff.  That was odd, the two of them never seemed to fight in a serious way.  
  
“Is it just me, or are you guys feeling really tired and cranky, too?” Subaru sighed, rubbing his eyes.  
  
Fai looked back and forth between Sakura and Subaru with some alarm.  “Guys, we have a show about to start.  I am ordering you to have an energy drink chug contest.  Go find a pack of Red Bull or whatever you’ve got to do.”  
  
“I’m good,” Sakura said, and she smiled wryly.  “I just drank a couple of Monsters. I’m just worn out, wishing the end of the tour would come faster.”  
  
“Three more weeks, you guys.  We’re almost there.”  
  
“I miss home.  And I need to meet up with the advisor at school to talk about graduation.”  
  
“I miss home, too,” Subaru said softly, playing with the sweat band on his wrist.  “There’s something I’ve been thinking about doing when we get back.”  
  
Subaru looked really simple tonight, Fai noticed.  Instead of his tendency toward layers of matching clothes and accessories, he was dressed in nothing but a tight AC/DC tshirt and a pair of jeans, although he’d kept his trademark fedora.  Fai was keeping it casual, too, in slim black pants and a henley with the neck unbuttoned.  To make sure he wasn’t too boring, he was wearing a pair of Chuck Taylors that were blindingly turquoise and folded over at the top to reveal a layer of white and blue underneath.  It was too hot and disgusting for anything more elaborate.  Sakura looked the most stage-ready, wearing a tank top that she’d slashed into ribbons in the front to show a second top beneath, and tight distressed denim bottoms, a studded belt and a studded cuff around her upper arm.  She never wore necklaces, claiming they got caught on the piercing on her neck, but Fai suspected it was just so people weren’t distracted from the cherry blossoms crawling over her shoulder.  
  
“Assuming we still have a home, that is,” Subaru added wryly, smiling with one corner of his mouth.  “I think our lease expired four months ago.”  
  
Fai punched his arm.  “Don’t be stupid,” he chided.  “You know the only reason you have a lease is because Kamui has trust issues.”  
  
“Hah.  Yeah.  So long as the rent gets paid, I guess you trust us, right?”  
  
Fai scowled, then wrapped an arm around his shoulders and bonked their heads together affectionately, nearly knocking Subaru’s hat off.  “Idiot.  You know it’s your home, no matter what.  I’ve always paid the mortgage somehow.”  
  
Subaru ducked his head shyly.  “Yeah.  Thanks.”  
  
Sakura was shaking her head.  “Do you know how hard it is to believe that you are responsible enough to own a home?” she said to Fai.  “I mean, I know you have a house and those two rent from you, but you just do not seem like the home owning type.”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, planting his hands on his hips.  Then a pang of missing her went through him and he stopped playing around.  “It was my mom’s,” he said simply, dropping his arms.  “Come on, we need to finish getting ready.”  He started walking, then stopped suddenly, and stared down at Sakura’s feet.  “You are also wearing Chucks.”  
  
“Yes?” she said, looking down at her shoes with him.  
  
“But yours have Batman on them.”  
  
“Yes, I know.”  
  
“ _I need to know where you found shoes with the fucking Batman_.”  
  
“At the store, Fai.  The _shoe_ store.”  
  
“Do they make Captain America shoes?  Please tell me they make Captain America shoes.”  
  
“Uh, I don’t think so, but I could make you Captain America shoes.  I could just sew patches with his shield design onto your white ones.”  
  
“Have I mentioned today that you are my favourite?”  
  
Subaru herded them backstage to join the others, patiently ignoring them for the most part, or at least he was trying to until Fai turned to him and interrupted Sakura to say,  
  
“Hey, didn’t you say you had something to do when we get back to Chicago?”  
  
“Oh, yeah.  It’s nothing.”  
  
“Tell me.”  
  
Sakura nodded to them and slipped away to talk to the other guys, giving them a moment.  
  
“I think . . . I think I want to go back to school,” Subaru said, flushing red.  “Kamui and I were talking about it, we both want to get our GED, but I was thinking about going to college.  I was going to ask Sakura about how to sign up for classes.  You know, I just . . . She and I are the same age, and she almost has a degree.  I . . .”  
  
“You’re not stupid, and nobody thinks that,” Fai said, giving him another arm-around-the-shoulders hug.  “But if you want to do that, I think it’s great.  Let me know if I can help, yeah?”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“Anytime.  You know you’re my favourite.”  
  
“I thought Sakura was your favourite.”  
  
“Shhh, don’t tell her.  I really want those shoes.”  
  


* * *

  
  
( _three years, one month ago_ )  
  
The meeting at IHOP didn’t accomplish much, since it was three o’clock in the morning and Fai was exhausted.  But hey, Touya paid so he wasn’t going to complain about free french toast.  He just rambled on about himself at their prompting.  He had a degree in small business management, but he’d seen how hard it was to run the bar where he worked and he didn’t really want to own his own restaurant anymore.  He told them that while he didn’t play professionally and never had, he considered himself a fairly skilled musician.  
  
(He didn’t like talking about Mom, it still hurt too much.  Just let them think he’d taken music classes.)  
  
That was about as far as they got, but they seemed to like him.  They said they wanted to hear more about his musical skills, which was how Fai ended up inviting them over to his house the next time he worked a day shift and had a night free.  He had never really considered doing anything with what he’d been taught about music.  He knew he had a gift, but he hadn’t pursued it.  
  
(It hurt.  A lot.  He’d gotten it from her and sometimes he felt like he should have buried the music with her because it would be so much easier if he didn’t have to feel all of this.)  
  
It was a little different when two musicians you looked up to from a band you’d been a fan of started courting you.  
  
So Fai met them at his bar and they followed him home.  It was only a couple of miles, and Fai walked to work on occasion, especially if tips were bad that month and he was short on gas money.  Thank God he had found roommates to help him cover the mortgage.  Five minutes later, and suddenly two of the three members of The Long Goodbye were at Fai’s home.  
  
“Home sweet home,” Fai said, gesturing them inside.  
  
He could see their eyes taking everything in and wondering about him.  The house had been Mom’s, so it was surprisingly well put-together for three young bachelors.  There was matching furniture and a colour scheme and everything.  Music paraphernalia was everywhere, from a shadow-box of sheet music and a cello bow, to photos taken with members of the orchestra.  Mom had stencil-painted musical notations in a border around the walls of the living room Fai directed them to.  
  
They could hear the sounds of an acoustic guitar playing the Red Hot Chili Peppers further back in the house.  Kamui often warmed up for a show by playing other people’s music, saying it was more relaxing than playing his own stuff.  
  
“Well it’s killing me/when will I really see/all that I need to look inside . . .”  
  
“That’s not Anthony Kiedis,” Touya said, lifting an eyebrow.  
  
“Nope, that’s Kamui,” Fai said.  “Sit down.  You guys want anything to drink?  I’ve got Coke and water and I think some orange juice, and let’s see, some Heineken—”  
  
“No, we’re fine.  Why don’t you sit down?  You’re the one who’s been working all day.”  
  
“True,” Fai laughed, plopping down on the couch.  
  
“Hey oh . . . Listen what I say, oh . . .”  
  
“He’s got a great voice,” Yukito said in approval.  
  
“That’s him playing, too,” Fai said.  “He and Subaru both play guitar.”  He’d somehow failed to mention that the two roommates were both musicians as well.  They, unlike him, were using it to make money (not counting the increase in tips when he sang karaoke).  
  
“The more I see the less I—”  
  
“Kamui!  What are you doing?  Our show is in an hour, hurry up and get ready!” called out a distressed voice.  
  
“I am ready!” he hollered back.  
  
“Then don’t leave your stuff out after you get ready!”  
  
Fai snickered.  “Kamui’s not so great about picking up after himself.  It drives Subaru nuts.”  
  
“Are they, you know . . .?”  
  
Fai snickered all the more.  “They’re twin brothers.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
“Fai is that you?” Subaru called out, coming down the hall and poking his head into the room.  “Who are you—oh.  Sorry to interrupt.”  
  
“No, it’s okay.  Guys, this is Subaru.  Subaru, this is Yukito and Touya.”  
  
“Hello,” Subaru said softly, shy as always.  
  
Fai couldn’t help smirking at the way Yukito and Touya were sizing the kid up. Subaru was dressed in a sleeveless black number that buttoned up to his throat, black leather pants, red and black checkered shoes, about a dozen thin black bracelets on each arm, and a black fedora hat with a red band around it.  
  
“Subaru!” Kamui bellowed, his footsteps sounding in the hallway.  “Who are you—  oh, hey. Fai, I didn’t know you were home.”  
  
“These are my friends Yukito and Touya,” Fai said mildly, gesturing to them.  “Guys, Kamui.”  
  
Kamui had on tight, dark gray denim pants, so tight that the boots he wore fit nicely over them, coming up almost to his knees and with several more buckles than was strictly necessary.  A belt that was studded with fake bullets was slung low over his hips.  He was wearing a black vest, but with no shirt under it, and some kind of choker around his throat.  Thick black eyeliner and smoky shadow drew attention to his face, despite his outfit.  He was still carrying his guitar in one hand.  
  
“Don’t mind the sexy goth costumes, that’s just normal for them,” Fai said, waving a hand at them.  
  
“You’re an idiot,” Kamui snorted.  “We’re playing a show tonight,” he informed the other two.  “This is what you wear when you're playing for ladies' night at a bar.  Sorry for interrupting.  See you later, Fai.”  
  
After the twins blew out the door, guitars and equipment bundled up in the back of their crappy 1970’s hatchback, Touya grinned at him.  
  
“Are they any good?  Because this is getting better and better all the time.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Exhausted and irritable and bickering, they loaded themselves up onto their bus, trusting Kurogane and Fuuma to make sure the equipment and roadies got into the other vehicles safely.  Touya and Yukito sometimes drove in a separate car to get some privacy, but tonight they were just as cranky and desperate for sleep as everyone else, so they went straight to the sleeping bunks on the second story of the bus and crashed.  
  
Kamui flipped on the t.v. and he and Sakura began arguing about what movie to put on.  Subaru looked too dazedly tired to care, stretching out on one of the benches.  Fai gave him five minutes before he fell asleep.  Someone would have to wake him up later to get him up to the bunks, and Fai wasn’t going to volunteer.  Subaru could be surprisingly vicious if you woke him up.  
  
Fai had waited till the dressing room cleared out and had snorted a line before getting on the bus with them, meaning that while he was just as tired as the rest of them, he wasn’t ready for sleep.  He honestly felt wrung out and he knew he needed to get some rest, so he was swigging from a hip flask of vodka to mellow out while he pretended to watch t.v.  His foot bobbed in time to the music in his head.  He had a lot up there that wouldn’t really be purged until he got into the studio and started recording.  
  
“You all right?” Sakura asked, reaching her foot across the aisle to poke his leg with her toes.  
  
Fai smiled at her as best he could.  “Yeah, sweetheart.  I’m great.  Just tired.”  
  
“Go to sleep.  We’ll keep the t.v. volume low.”  
  
“Thanks.  Not quite ready to sleep, but soon enough.”  
  
“Okay,” she said, but she was looking at his vodka and frowning.  Oh, please, he begged her silently in his head, please do not start.  He could not handle that kind of conversation right now.  Three more weeks, and they’d be home.  Just three weeks and he could try to get a handle on this shit.  
  
Everything was quiet for a few minutes, the only sound coming from the t.v. and the constant whizzing noise of Kamui moving the zipper up and down on his sleeveless hoodie, which he was wearing because in Kamui’s world, a sleeveless hoodie constituted clothing.  
  
“Hey, Kamui,” Fai said.  “Are you going to think about college, too, or is that just Subaru?”  
  
Kamui frowned at Subaru, but since the kid had already dozed off, it didn’t do much good.  “Dunno yet,” he said sullenly.  “My first priority is getting this finished, and then I’ll think about paying for school,” he added, tracing a finger over the half-finished tattoo on his arm.  
  
Fai himself did not have tattoos and didn’t really care for any, but he kind of loved being in a rock band and admiring the stuff his bandmates did to themselves.  Kamui had a score of sheet music that wrapped around his whole arm in a spiral from his shoulder to his elbow, with the musical notes for his solo in “Heaven and Earth and The Other Place” picked out against the five lines.  The basic work was done, but he wanted some of the lines thickened, and he wanted the notes shaded, and a few hints of colour to be added in.  
  
“You should think about it,” Fai said slowly, carefully.  The vodka was starting to make his tongue feel thick.  “You’ve got so much talent, but getting into some music theory classes would be good for you.”  
  
“You mean good for the band.”  
  
“No, I don’t.  I mean for you,” Fai said firmly.  Kamui was a musican through and through.  Anything that expanded his horizons would make him happier just as much as it would make him more talented.  
  
Fai never had any siblings of his own, and he’d never really thought of himself as lonely, never thought of anything as missing.  He’d never known he could be so good at bossing around and worrying over a little brother until he suddenly adopted a pair.  He was just lucky that they let him do it.  
  
He took one last pull from the flask and realized rather abruptly that exhaustion had fully set in.  He barely managed to drag himself up to his bed, head swimming, and fell asleep without even taking his shoes off.  
  
Someone took them off for him, later.  He could hear voices around him, but they came like his ears were full of water, the voices muffled and liquid.  They were taking his shoes off and putting a blanket over him.  
  
“He seems off,” Kamui’s voice bubbled through the water.  
  
“I’m worried about him too,” Sakura wavered.  
  
In the morning, he told himself he’d just dreamed it.  It was easier that way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is smutty. FYI

_Well, Some nights, I wish that this all would end  
Cause I could use some friends for a change  
And some nights, I'm scared you'll forget me again  
Some nights, I always win, I always win...  
  
But I still wake up, I still see your ghost  
Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh_  
  
  
“Eriol!” Yukito greeted him gladly as soon as he opened the door.  They’d just texted him a few minutes ago and he was waiting in the front room.  
  
“Hey, buddy!” Eriol replied, holding out his arms as Yukito stepped forward.  
  
“How are you?” Yukito asked as the two of them thumped each other on the back in a firm embrace.  Touya didn’t really do hugs, but he and Eriol shared a warm handshake.  Yukito was happy all over again that things had ended up this way—between one thing and another ( _Ruby_ , his mind supplied) there had been a very strong chance they would not all be friends. But things had worked themselves out.  “What have you been up to while we’ve been gone?”  
  
“I’m great, everything’s great.  Just got my first article published in the _Journal_ , so that was huge.  They decided to funnel some more grant money my way.  Obviously my boss gets all the credit, but we knew that.  I’m going to force my students to read my article this semester so I can really fulfill the dream of being a pretentious asshole I always had.” He finished with a cheesy smile, which told Yukito right away that Eriol was feeling rather self-conscious about the whole thing, so he hugged him again.  
  
“Congratulations, I can’t wait to read it!” Yukito said sincerely, but that was all he could do right now because there was a much more pressing situation.  He pushed past Eriol and headed for the kitchen.  “Where’s Oscar?  Did you take good care of him?”  
  
“Thrown over for a houseplant, what is my life coming to?” Eriol said dramatically, but he was following Yukito.  “Of course I did!  You left me _two pages of notes_ and a freaking pie graph, after all.”  
  
“Oscar deserves the best,” Yukito said primly as he went to the window where Oscar was hung.  He might be slightly obsessive about this, _might be_ , but he liked living in denial.  
  
“It’s a plant, Yukito,” Eriol said dryly.  
  
“I can’t hear you, I’m talking to Oscar, and it’s rude to interrupt,” Yukito shot back, already stroking his hand over the riotous leaves of his Hindu Rope plant.  “I’m sorry I missed your growing season this year, I promise I’ll take good care of you from now on . . .”  
  
“Eriol, thank you again for keeping an eye on this place,” Touya said, clapping him on the shoulder, apparently sticking by his stated policy of ignoring Yukito’s relationship with Oscar as much as possible.  “We appreciate it.”  
  
Eriol shrugged.  “It’s not any particular hardship to check your mail and turn the lights on and off, you know.  I live like a mile from here.”  
  
“Fine, then thank you for not burning it down during some wild party.  Did you end up letting that student of yours stay here?”  
  
“No, actually, that worked itself out, she was able to move in with her sister.  Thanks for being cool about it, though.  It was nice to know this place was a possibility if we needed it.”  
  
“Yeah, sure.  It’s not like we were using it.”  
  
Touya sounded so nonchalant about it, Yukito thought with amusement, like he hadn’t been the one who’d spent three days talking Touya into it.  Eriol had mentioned over the phone that a girl in the class he was teaching was being abused by her boyfriend and didn’t have anywhere to go.  Yukito was the one who’d pointed out their apartment was unoccupied.  
  
“You guys look tired,” Eriol observed, then stuck his head into a cabinet and started moving pots and pans around.  
  
“We are,” Yukito said, leaning into Touya’s side now that greetings had been properly exchanged with Oscar.  “We are completely drained and have no plans to leave this house at all for at least a week.”  
  
“Well, I can get out of your hair, but I thought you’d want this.”  Eriol extricated himself from the cabinet and tossed a plastic bag to Touya.  
  
Touya looked at the marijuana in his hands, then back at Eriol.  “My man,” he said with gravity.  “You are, right now, this very minute, about to be venerated into sainthood.  Yes.  You have no idea how bad I need this.”  
  
“Consider it your welcome-home present,” Eriol smirked.  “Hey, I’ll let you guys get settled back in, all right?  Call me after your week of wild monkey sex and we’ll hang out.”  
  
Eriol really knew them far too well, Yukito thought faintly, although his thoughts were mostly taken up with wild monkey sex.  God, yes.  It wasn’t a proper homecoming until they’d re-christened every room.  Every.  Room.  He was going to fuck his boyfriend over the washing machine in the laundry closet, yes.  
  
“This is mostly a good plan, but you should stick around and help us smoke this,” Touya said.  “We’re getting old or something, but we hardly ever smoke dope anymore.  No way we’ll go through all this by ourselves.”  
  
“Speak for yourself,” Yukito muttered, plucking up the bag to protect it from Touya’s apparent need to be a responsible adult.  It was true that they rarely indulged, but their life was calling for serious indulgence today.  
  
“What, right now?” Eriol said, startled.  
  
“Absolutely,” Touya said fervently.  Yukito nodded his head in agreement.  
  
Eriol let his concern show.  “I knew you’d be tired and missing home, but you guys are making it seem like something happened.  What’s going on?”  
  
“Oh, a lot of things,” Yukito said glumly, digging into a rarely-used junk drawer and fishing out a handful of rolling paper.  “The whole band’s a mess right now.”  
  
They rolled in silence, then took it out to the tiny back porch to let the summer air absorb the smoke while they sat in crappy plastic chairs.  Touya had wanted real furniture, but Yukito had argued against spending all the money when they had been headed out for a concert tour that had been extended twice after the Grammy appearance and wouldn’t be around to use it.  Maybe they could spruce this place up now that they were going to be here more often.  He was not going to move to a new apartment right before going on a concert tour again, that was a lesson that didn’t need repeating.  They still had boxes to unpack, for pete’s sake.  
  
“Fai’s been drinking like a fish,” Touya informed Eriol, mumbling around the joint between his lips.  “I love the guy, I really do, but _I am not doing this again_.  If he’s losing it, I’m out.  I’m not going to be forced to watch my livelihood fall apart because somebody else can’t go a day without drinking.  I already did that once, you know?”  
  
Eriol winced but said nothing, busy holding the lighter for Yukito.  
  
“I think being home is going to help,” Yukito said, leaning back triumphantly, taking a drag and blowing it out with a satisfied sigh.  “Eriol, this is why we’re friends,” he said blissfully, closing his eyes.  He felt his face twist as his doubts reasserted themselves.  “I hope it helps, but I don’t know.  Subaru’s the only one that Fai’s really close to, and he’s got enough problems of his own without trying to shoulder Fai’s.”  
  
“Well . . .” Eriol said slowly.  “You guys have been through this before, so maybe he’d listen to—”  
  
“No,” Touya said.  “No, fuck no.  I am so sick of trying to hold people _together_ , okay?  Three years ago, Fai was perfectly fine and I don’t know what the fuck’s gotten into him but it’s not my responsibility.”  
  
Eriol was gaping at Touya.  Yukito didn’t look at him at all.  He’d known a bit about how Touya was feeling, but the level of anger that he could see building up in his boyfriend had him more worried than anything else.  When he pulled the joint away from his lips to blow out a cloud of smoke, he could see his fingers shaking a bit.  
  
“Touya, that’s . . . not like you.”  
  
“I don’t care,” he said fiercely.  “Haven’t I been through enough?  I had to watch my best friend turn into an utter asshole and watch him throw away everything he cared about because he couldn’t stay out of a bottle, and then I had to watch what it took for him to crawl his way back to a normal life after—after Syaoran—oh, and _plus_ , let’s not _forget_ , I had to watch my baby sister go through months of physical therapy and years of mourning, I had to help and be there— I’ve had to be the strong one, all along.  Didn’t matter if I loved that kid like he was my own brother, didn’t matter that it hurt me, it didn’t matter that I lost out on some things I really wanted because Kurogane was pissing it away for me— no, I have to be the one who keeps it all together.  I have to support them.  I don’t get a moment to just feel like fucking shit about all of it, because they need me.”  
  
Yukito stayed very quiet and kept his eyes on the concrete of the porch, willing Eriol to do the same.  
  
“And I did, right?” Touya asked, suddenly sounding bewildered.  “I tried so hard to be there for them.”  He sounded so unsure.  Sounded alone.  Small.  Yukito’s heart hurt for him so badly that he felt it physically, like some red throbbing in the corners of his vision.  He longed to catch Touya up in his arms and hold him, but first he wanted to hear this.  Touya had been gruff and distant for a while now.   “I mean, I wanted to.  My best friend, my little sister, obviously I wanted to . . . I . . . I _hate_ whatever’s happening to Fai, I really do.  He’s a really good guy, he’s fucking amazingly talented, we never could have done any of this without him . . . I don’t know why he’s acting like this.  I mean, I want to help, but I can’t— I don’t know.  I can’t do this again.”  
  
Eriol pointedly tried not to see the desperate sheen of tears in Touya’s eyes.  There weren’t a lot of people who knew the whole story, but Eriol knew more than most.  He stood up, flicking his butt into the ashtray that had clearly seen use a couple of times while they’d been touring.  “I’m gonna go, guys,” he said quietly.  _Thank you_ , Yukito thought with relief, but he still stayed quiet.  Eriol laid a hand on Touya’s shoulder.  “Get some rest.  Things will look up after you’d had a chance to relax.  Ruby made lasagna for you guys, by the way, it’s in the fridge.  We went to the store and got a few groceries this morning so you don’t have to worry about food for a couple of days.  Call me if you want to hang out this weekend.”  
  
“Thanks,” Touya forced out, head hanging low.  “Sorry, man, I just—”  
  
“Hey, it’s nice to know you’re just as human as we are,” Eriol said lightly.  “See you.”  
  
They could hear him walk through the house, and listened for the sound of the front door closing.  
  
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” Yukito said immediately, scooting closer and grabbing Touya’s hand tightly.  “We haven’t talked about this enough, and I should have—”  
  
“Yuki, it’s okay.  I don’t really want to do this right now.”  
  
That hurt, hurt like a sharp stinging blow to the face.  But this was Touya, and he’d never just hurt Yukito on purpose.  He knew that.  So he blew out a breath of frustration and held onto his hand.  “I know that this is hard on you.  It’s just as hard on me, and the last thing I need is to have you not talking to me.”  
  
“I wasn’t . . . I’m not trying to— you know I wouldn’t— look, I’m sorry.  These past couple of months have just gotten really rough, and I’m tired.  I don’t mind talking about this, just . . . Later?  Please?”  
  
“Okay,” Yukito said, lifting Touya’s hand and kissing his knuckles.  If Touya couldn’t do this today, then there was no reason to force him.  Nagging at him would just be that—nagging.  They’d been through too much for Yukito not to trust him now.  “Just don’t shut me out, that’s all I’m asking.  Come on, it’s too hot out here, let’s go inside.  Are you hungry?  Ruby’s lasagna is just sitting in our fridge calling our names.”  
  
Touya chuckled as Yukito pulled him to his feet.  “Of course you want food.  You get the munchies worse than anybody I know.  I mean, did you even finish a whole joint?”  
  
“The lasagna is lonely, baby, don’t be mean,” he pouted, glad to feel the tension lightening.  Their relationship had always been so perfect that even minor challenges felt like the end of the world to him.  Realizing that Touya was willing to open up again made a thousand tiny twists of worry in Yukito’s stomach unravel themselves all at once.  Of course he was hungry; this was the first time his stomach hadn’t been upset in weeks.  
  
“You go ahead, I don’t want any.”  
  
“What _do_ you want?” Yukito asked quietly as they entered the kitchen.  “If you just wanna watch t.v. all afternoon and be left alone, that’s okay.  Just tell me.”  
  
Touya splayed his hands on top of the small dining table beside the kitchen, leaning on them and watching Yukito walk past him.  “Mmm,” he hummed thoughtfully.  
  
Yukito could feel Touya’s eyes on him as he poked through the fridge to see what Eriol and Ruby had left them.  Yukito had lost weight while they’d been on the road, and the jeans he was wearing were slipping low, exposing the jut of his hipbone as he used it to shut the fridge door.  He hid his grin by ducking his head, knowing Touya was watching his every move, now. He bent down to grab a microwavable dish from the bottom cupboard, and exposed a slice of skin on his lower back, a dark grey design slashing down on either side of his spine and hinting at what else lay beneath his clothes.  He went to the drawer for a serving spoon and idly reached his hand into his shirt to scratch at his stomach.  
  
Touya hummed again.  Yukito straightened up to look at him, and immediately stopped moving.  Teasing him had worked only too well.  
  
“You, uh, look like you might be hungry after all,” he tried to joke.  Then he swallowed, and Touya’s eyes traced over the slight ripple of his throat.  Hungry, yes, a hunger so dark and deep that Yukito just left the pasta abandoned on the counter and walked back to him.  “So tell me what you want,” he whispered.  
  
Touya’s hands were gliding over the surface of the table, long fingers tracing small grooves in the wood.  
  
“You know the worst part of being on tour?” he asked, his voice thick.  “I am so sick of crappy hotel rooms and parked cars and I’m tired of being _quiet_.  Yuki—”  One hand rose up, and grabbed the waistband of the loose jeans, yanking Yukito flush against his body.  He was startled, but hardly discouraging, pressing their hips together.  “I am going to fuck you over this table until one of you breaks.”  
  
Yuki’s fingers dug into Touya’s shoulders and his lips parted in a desperately caught breath.  _Yes, yes, please baby yes  
_  
“I am going—” he ducked his head and kissed Yukito’s lips, flicking a tongue into the open space.  “To make you.”  The other hand pressed against the small of Yukito’s back, wriggling underneath the shirt and caressing his skin, and _oh yes_ he needed that, needed that touch on his back so _much_ his whole back felt like _burning_.  “Scream.”  He bit down on Yukito’s lip.  Hard, so hard, Yukito wondered if he’d drawn blood—  
  
Yukito groaned against Touya’s mouth and dug his fingers into his hair, meeting his bite with a bruising kiss of his own.  One tiny shimmy of his hips, and suddenly Touya’s hand was the only thing holding Yukito’s jeans up.  He ground himself against Touya’s leg.  
  
“If it’s all the same to you—” he gasped.  “I’d rather move this to the bedroom.  I need you to touch my wings.”  
  
“Yuki, I _can’t_ —” Touya said, his voice strangled.  
  
“ _I need you_ ,” Yukito said through gritted teeth.  
  
Touya sucked at Yukito’s bottom lip, then let go of him.  His jeans slumped to the floor, so he kicked them off before he could get tangled in them.  During that moment of distraction, Touya bent down and lifted him, throwing Yukito over his shoulder and carrying him down the hall to their bedroom.  With his stomach pressed so hard into Touya’s shoulder, it was hard to breathe and not exactly comfortable.  
  
“What are you, a caveman?” he asked in exasperation.  “Ooomph!” he grunted when Touya tossed him onto the bed.  
  
“Feeling like one,” Touya growled, his hands fisted in Yukito’s shirt.  “This is in my way.”  
  
Yukito smiled wickedly and put his hands behind his head to allow Touya to unbutton it.  But Touya was not in the mood.  He grabbed the edges and pulled.  Buttons tore away and the shirt fell open, and while Yukito could have protested his ruined shirt, he was too busy being nearly breathless with lust.  His stomach was exposed to Touya, who traced two fingers from his sternum to the edge of his briefs.  Yukito lifted his head to kiss him, but Touya planted a hand on his chest and shoved him back down.  
  
“You said you needed me to touch your wings,” he growled.  Without warning, he flipped Yukito over to lay on his stomach, pulling him free of his shirt in the process.  “I plan to do more than just touch.”  
  
Yukito splayed out his arms and laid still, heart pounding wildly with anticipation already.  Touya slid one leg across Yukito’s body, and carefully settled into a position straddling Yukito’s hips.  When the first fingertip touched the pinion of the first feather, Yukito shuddered from head to toe.  
  
Touya set to work.  If he wanted to do this right, it would take some time.  The tattoo covered Yukito’s entire back, the pair of wings beginning along the upper curve of his shoulders, and the last trailing feathers at the bottom were curved down his hips and licked over his rear end.  When it had first been completed, Touya had been so enthralled that he’d forced Yukito to lie down on their bed and let him trace his fingers over every feather.  When he’d finally allowed Yukito to get up and discovered that Yukito had come all over the sheets simply from the relentless touch on his sensitive skin, they found their favourite form of foreplay.  
  
Touya hadn’t had the time and privacy to do this for months.  Even as desperate as he was to fuck, he enjoyed this just as much as Yukito did.  He probably couldn’t be gentle, but it seemed he planned to be thorough.  
  
His fingers traced the coverts along Yukito’s shoulders, moving in a rhythm outward, tracing just two feathers at a time.  He slowly moved across his shoulders to their outer edges, where the first of the primary feathers began to appear.  He paused to place a kiss on Yukito’s spine where the wings joined, and Yukito groaned in contentment.  He kept that up, fingers tracing further down along Yukito’s ribcage and his mouth down his spine.  Then he paused a moment, his breath hot on Yukito’s back.  The secondary feathers arced back toward the middle of his back, while the longer primaries continued lower.  His tongue flicked out.  Yukito moaned.  
  
Touya used his tongue to trace along the feathers near his spine, while his fingers dug deep and slowly moved down his ribs.  He nipped sharply at the place where the wings joined and Yukito rolled his hips and whimpered.  
  
“That’s enough,” he gasped.  “I’m ready for anything you want.”  
  
“No,” Touya said firmly, and bit down a little too hard.  Yukito’s hands clutched at the sheets.  
  
“Touya . . . I’m gonna . . .”  
  
“Good,” he chuckled softly, and kept going.  
  
Fingers, teeth, tongue, lips, gliding downward all the time, little points of pain pricking throughout the deep massage into the muscles of his lower back—  Hot breath damp against his spine and fingers that could fly over piano keys tracing lines over his waist—  Lower and lower, all the time—  
  
Touya met with the edge of Yukito’s underwear.  His hands strayed back up to Yukito’s ribs, and Yukito felt Touya’s hair brushing over his back as he turned his head to get the waistband in his teeth.  Yukito was writhing, moaning, his erection straining underneath him and there was no way the underwear was going to come off that easily— Touya’s tongue was already licking across the edge of the lowest feather, curving around his ass, fingers digging hard into Yukito’s hip— he reached a hand underneath to free Yukito at last from the confines of his briefs—  
  
“Touya!” he shrieked, and couldn’t help it.  He ground himself down and gasped desperately as he spilled himself onto Touya’s hand.  
  
“That’s it, come for me,” Touya said, raising himself up and muttering into his ear, pulling the skin of it into his mouth and nibbling at it.  
  
“Unh,” he sobbed, because he was already coming and Touya was _relentless_.  
  
After he’d spent himself, he lay there bonelessly beneath Touya’s weight, sweat dampening the pillow under his head and the mess under his groin beginning to get sticky.  His muscles were loose and relaxed from Touya’s fingers, he’d just had every inch of skin on his back worshipped, and he’d orgasmed.  Time to sleep, definitely.  He could shower later.  He was already feeling drowsiness sucking him in . . .  
  
Touya’s fingers gripped into his hips and lifted him up.  “Don’t you dare,” he growled.  His hand slid under Yukito’s neck, caressed the skin of his throat for a moment and he brought his lips down to kiss and suck fiercely at the hollow of Yukito’s throat.  “ _It’s my turn_.”  


* * *

  
It was . . . An undetermined amount of time later, possibly three hours or possibly more, that Touya checked the text messages that had been trickling in.  
  
One from Ruby: _I put some ice cream in the freezer for you, gorgeous_ (Touya shuddered and deleted it, but didn’t go marching into the kitchen to throw out the ice cream, so Yukitio considered that an improvement).  One from Fai: _House didn’t burn down while we were gone, hooray!  If I try to bother anybody about working in the studio in the next two weeks, you’re allowed to murder me_ , and then another from Fai: _That was Kamui and no murdering please, but I promise to leave you all alone for a while_.  (They both got a laugh out of that, and it was nice to be reminded that they weren’t the only ones keeping an eye on Fai.)  One from Sakura: _ugggggh, Chiharu and Rika finally rented out my room, I told them to so it’s fine, but now I gotta move back in with Dad for a while_ (Touya tried hard not to sound pleased by that, but Yukito thought he could have tried a little harder.)  
  
“Oh, hey, Dad texted too,” Touya said, nuzzling his face against Yukito’s neck just to be a pain.  Yukito whined at him.  “He says we should come over and have a welcome-home dinner.”  
  
Yukito lifted his head as much as he could manage—almost got his face off the pillow—and groaned miserably before collapsing again.  
  
“I’ll tell him tomorrow,” Touya said, grinning.  
  
“Tell him next month, after I get out of traction in the hospital.  Tell him I’m sorry I can’t attend but his son dislocated my hips.”  
  
Touya nuzzled into his neck again.  “It didn’t _sound_ like you were telling me to stop.  I could have sworn I heard, ‘yes, baby, please, please, more, so good, yes, oh oh oh it hurts oh god, no don’t stop it hurts so good’ . . . I think that was what you said.  I mean, you were screaming it in my ear so I’m fairly sure, but I could be mistaken.”  
  
“Shut up before I kill you,” Yukito muttered, hiding the flush in his cheeks by burrowing his face deeper into the pillow.  Touya had just about fucked him straight through the mattress, so Yukito deserved to be left alone now.  Or pampered.  Touya should pick him up and carry him to the shower and feed him the ice cream in the freezer.  
  
“Hey,” Touya said, gruff and low and heartbreakingly honest, right beside his ear.  “I love you, Yuki.”  
  
“I know,” he sighed, turning his face so Touya could give him a small, sweet kiss.  “You too, baby.”  
  
“I’m glad we’re home.”  
  
“Yeah.  My favourite thing is our nice big shower,” he hinted.  
  
Touya grinned and kissed his forehead.  “I’ll go turn it on and get the water hot.”  He swung himself out of bed, and nearly fell over, catching himself on the nightstand.  
  
Yukito snickered.  
  
“Shut up,” Touya muttered.  “Text Kurogane, would you?  I want to make sure he got home okay.”  
  
“He’s a big boy, Touya.”  
  
“Text him anyway,” Touya said with exasperation.  “My big-brother mode does not have an off switch.  You know better.  Besides, I don’t want him to think he can start going weeks without talking to us again.  He said yes to the tour, so he’s stuck with us now.”  
  
Yukito sighed, but picked up Touya’s phone.  “I’m telling him this is against my will!” he hollered toward the bathroom.  Tried to holler.  His throat was feeling a little raw.  
  
“Okay!  Text Dad too, tell him and Sakura to come over and eat this lasagna with us tomorrow!  Actually, tell Kurogane to come over, too.  Don’t tell him it’s a family thing, you know he’ll be an idiot and try not to come if he knows it’s a family thing.”  
  
“Uh . . .”  
  
“What?” Touya said, poking his head out of the bathroom.  
  
“I think it’s still on the counter.  We might have to throw it away.”  
  
Touya’s grin at that was _way_ too smug.  “Fine.  Tell them it’s burgers, then.”  
  
“Kurogane’s going to say he’s busy.”  
  
“Tough shit for Kurogane.  You and I will go pick him up and drag him back here kicking and screaming, then.”  
  
And that, Yukito thought with a grin as he typed out the message on the phone, was an accurate summary of their entire relationship.  


* * *

  
  
( _twelve years ago_ )  
  
“We have a new kid,” Touya said, plunking himself down beside Yukito on the grass of the football field.  They were both red-faced and still gasping from the wind sprints the track coach had been putting them through.  
  
“We do?” Yukito asked in bewilderment, looking around.  
  
“Not on the track team.  In our class.  You missed it because you were on that field trip today.  He just moved here.  He’s still only fifteen, but he’s huge.  I thought he got held back a grade, but I guess he’s just really tall.  He doesn’t talk much.  I didn’t even talk to him at all.  The girls were all over him, and he panicked and ran off to hide in the library.”  
  
“Is he cute?” Yukito asked brightly.  
  
“Not my type,” Touya grimaced.  
  
Yukito eyed him with a lopsided smirk.  “He’s my type, right?”  
  
“How would I know?” Touya said, cheeks reddening again just when he’d started to cool down.  “I don’t know what your type is.”  
  
Touya had invited Yukito home after school the same day they’d met, and they’d spent all their free time together in the months since.  They’d both figured out only a few weeks on that the other one was _not interested_ in girls, but they’d been dancing around it.  Neither of them had dated anybody before.  Yukito was really, really cool and Touya hadn’t really worked up the nerve to face possible rejection.  He liked being friends with him too much to screw it up.  
  
“Oh, you know, I like tall, dark, handsome men,” Yukito said off-handedly.  “Athletic, hopefully musical, I need a guy who I can play music with . . .”  
  
Touya was red as a beet.  “Uh, you, well, do you, when you say, I mean, do you think I, that is I think—”  
  
“Dammit, I missed the whole thing?” a voice grumbled right over their heads.  
  
They both tipped their heads back simultaneously.  “Huh?”  
  
“I wanted to join the track team, but the stupid librarian thought she had to train me how to use the whole system just because I couldn’t find a book I needed.  She wouldn’t shut up, so now I missed practice.”  
  
The effect of the black-haired boy’s scowl was somewhat lost when he towered so far above you that you could barely see it.  
  
“Oh, hey, this is the new kid,” Touya said, taking in a great, relieved gulp of air.  “Sorry, I can’t remember your name.”  
  
“It’s Kurogane.  Who’re you?”  
  
“Touya.  I’m in your English class and your math class.  This is Yukito.  He was out today because he’s a science nerd and they went on a field trip, but he’s in those classes too.”  
  
“Oh.  Hi.  Nice to meet you, I guess.”  
  
“You can sit down,” Touya said, drawing his legs in so Kurogane could sit facing them and they could stop looking up at him.  
  
“Sure, I guess,” he said, sinking down cross-legged into the grass.  
  
“What kind of events do you do?” Yukito asked.  
  
“Events?”  
  
“For track,” he clarified.  “What races do you do?”  
  
“Eh, I don’t really run.  I do shotput and javelin and long jump.”  
  
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Touya smirked, looking at Kurogane’s long legs.  
  
“Ha ha, you’re hilarious,” Kurogane scowled.  
  
“You probably get that a lot.  Sorry.”  
  
“S’cool,” he muttered.  
  
“Do you play any other sports?” Yukito asked politely.  
  
“Not really,” Kurogane shrugged.  “I’m not really a team player.  I mostly just play guitar and stuff, but my mom— well, she wanted me to get out more, so she made me join track last year.  I like it, so I wanted to try it here.”  
  
“You play guitar?” Yukito said, eyes lighting up.  “Me, too!”  
  
“Yeah?” Kurogane smiled crookedly.  
  
Touya’s heart dropped out of his chest to be consumed by his stomach.  No, no, why now, just when things were starting to . . . ?  Fuck this guy for showing up, _seriously_.  
  
“Well, I play a little regular guitar.  Mostly I’m a bass player,” Yukito said off-handedly.  “That’s what I really like.”  
  
“That’s cool,” Kurogane said, his crooked smile making Touya’s stomach squirm unbearably.  This was the worst day of his life.  Yukito looked all _interested_ and he was all _smiling_ and—  
  
 _Should have said something if you were so interested, dumbass_ , Touya told himself, and gritted his teeth.  
  
“I’m an idiot,” Kurogane said abruptly, “because I’m trying to think of a way to sound less like a dork, but I just play a lot of electric guitar and I want to be in a rock band.  There’s no way to say that without sounding completely stupid, right?  I want to be a rock star, me and every other teenager ever.”  
  
Yukito laughed, no he giggled, and just ugh.  
  
Touya stood up abruptly.  “I gotta get going.  I gotta pick Sakura up from school.”  
  
Yukito stood up, too, causing Kurogane to stand up with them.  
  
“Want me to walk with you?” Yukito said eagerly.  
  
 _Why don’t you walk home with_ _Kurogane_? he thought sourly.  “Nah, it’s okay.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
  
“Oh . . . Okay,” Yukito said, looking strangely hurt.  
  
“Heh.  I gotta pick up my kid brother, so I’d better get going too,” Kurogane said.  “You guys are pretty cool, I guess.  See you?”  
  
“Yeah,” Touya muttered.  
  
“Hey, Touya, you should tell Kurogane you play, too!” Yukito said suddenly.  
  
“You play guitar?”  
  
“Ah, no, just . . . I took piano lessons when I was a kid, that’s all.  I mess around on the keyboard a lot.  It’s nothing.”  
  
“He’s really, really good!” Yukito threw out.  
  
“Not really,” Touya muttered.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Sakura was holding his hand and chattering madly at him about her day at school.  She was ten, and Touya couldn’t remember ever having this much to talk about when he was in the fourth grade, but he let her talk.  His baby sister was basically the cutest kid ever and he didn’t mind.  
  
“And we decided we’re going to be best friends!” she said brightly.  
  
He hadn’t been paying attention.  Whoops.  “Huh?  Who is?”  
  
Sakura made a pouting face at him.  “I was just _telling_ you, Touya.  The new boy, Syaoran.  He’s going to be my best friend, because he’s really nice and we had a lot of fun in music class!  That’s him over there, see?  That must be his big brother, he said his brother was coming to pick him up.  He says Kurogane’s the greatest brother in the world, but I told him _you_ were, so we decided you’re probably _both_ the best—”  
  
“Are you kidding,” Touya muttered flatly, looking over at the tall boy.  He had a hand on the shoulder of a small brown-haired boy, his face soft and fond as the little boy chattered at him.  “Hey Kurogane!” he called out.  
  
Kurogane saw him and sent him that sideways smile that was so _ridiculous_ and how could Yukito even _think_ that was worth smiling back . . .  
  
“Heh.  Guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other!” he called back.  “Apparently they decided they’re best friends!”  
  
“Great,” Touya muttered.  “Whoopee.”  
  
“Next you’ll be telling me your boyfriend’s got a sibling in this class, too” Kurogane said, allowing Syaoran to pull him over to where his new best friend was, so they could be introduced.  Sakura was tugging similarly on Touya.  
  
“My what?” Touya said, and felt his face go hot and red.  
  
“Yukito?  He’s . . . your boyfriend . . .?  Oh, shit, I’m sorry, I’m totally sorry, I just thought you guys were, um, I thought you guys were flirting when I was walking over, but I’m a complete moron, never mind, shit, I—”  
  
“I haven’t asked him out yet,” Touya blurted out, and felt a manic smile freeze on his face.  
  
Kurogane seemed just as frozen for a moment, but then he laughed.  “You should do it soon, you know, before he gets tired of waiting and asks you instead,” he grinned.  
  
This guy . . . He wasn’t so bad.  Maybe.  
  
“See you around, Kurogane.”  
  
“Yeah.”  


* * *

  
  
“Bad news,” Fai said, grimacing as he came into the room, slipping his cell phone into his pocket.  
  
Subaru looked up from the computer.  “What is it?”  
  
Kamui was laying on his bed, drowsing through a nap, but he muttered into his pillow and rolled over.  
  
“Forget not going to the studio for two weeks.  Kyle asked to see you and me.”  
  
Subaru’s face paled.  “Do we have to?”  
  
Fai shrugged irritably.  “He’s a douche bag, but at least he wants our input before he makes public statements on our behalf.”  _Occasionally_ , he added mentally.  
  
“Don’t defend him,” Kamui muttered, wiping at a spot of drool on the corner of his mouth.  “Kyle is nothing but a human wasteland.  He is the worst public relations manager in history.”  
  
“Well, he’s the one we’ve got.  Come on, I told him we’d come in today.  Putting it off will just make it worse.”  He’d really rather be doing anything, anything in the _world_ , than having a meeting with Kyle, but if he tried to do anything else today, this would just be hanging over his head spoiling it.  
  
“I get why he needs to talk to Subaru,” Kamui said, narrowing his eyes, “but what does he need from you?”  
  
Fai’s heart ached when Subaru just bowed his head quietly.  None of the things that had happened to him had been his fault, but they’d happened all the same.  There were a lot of reporters trying to get answers, climbing all over each other to be the one who got to talk to Subaru about it.  For all the Kyle was the world’s sleaziest pile of scum, at least he was standing between the public and Subaru.  It helped that the police that night had fudged a bit on their report, so the public didn’t know what Kurogane and Fuuma had done.  That would have been a red flag about how serious the situation was, and they would have dug more deeply into the “stalker” instead of assuming he was just a random psycho fan.  
  
“Fai?”  
  
“Uh, I don’t really know,” Fai admitted.  “He probably just wants to bitch me out about that _Rolling Stone_ article.  He prepped me for it and I wasn’t supposed to let the guy open that whole can of worms about the lyrics.”  
  
“Really?” Kamui asked with more interest, sitting up and scrubbing his hands through his hair.  “I’d have thought he’d want you to say something about it, instead of leaving it all up to him.”  
  
Fai didn’t really want to get into it, so he just grimaced and shrugged.  
  
“I’ll be ready soon,” Subaru said quietly, going to the closet and digging amongst his many, many shoes for the pair he wanted.  
  
“I’m coming with you guys,” Kamui said.  
  
“Ah, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Fai muttered.  Kamui and Kyle in the same room was never a good idea, but he knew it was hopeless before the words were even out of his mouth.  
  
“I am not letting Subaru deal with that asshole without me.”  
  
If Fai was being honest with himself, he was glad.  Fai tried to act like a professional and make sure the band was taken seriously, so he usually had to keep himself in check.  Kamui, being the younger and volatile member of the band, got away with a lot more.  Kamui could probably call Kyle a giant fuckface without getting reprimanded by Okiura.  
  
So the three of them set off, with Fai wondering if he ought to have informed Touya, Yukito, or Sakura about this.  Well, none of them were being called on the carpet, so Fai wouldn’t bother them while they were trying to settle in at home.  He’d let them know if anything important happened.  
  
They tread the familiar hallways of their recording studio, where Kyle kept his office, exchanging greetings with a few employees and stopping a moment to congratulate Hana when they saw her in the hallway.  Her and Chikahito’s single had debuted on the radio to a lot of positive feedback, and they were in the studio today working on the forthcoming album that would feature the single.  They’d all met when Hana and Chikahito had played the opening set for a Paper Cranes concert here in Chicago at the beginning of the year.  Fai thought the two of them were adorable.  
  
The fun had to end at some point, and Fai tried to hold his head up and lead the other two into Kyle’s office without making it look like they were slinking in to get punished like a trio of rowdy children.  Kyle pulled a lot of weight around here because he’d worked for the studio for a long time, but he didn’t technically have any authority over them and Fai wasn’t planning on being bullied today.  
  
“Hi, Kyle,” he said brightly, not caring that he was interrupting a phone call.  A secretary would have told them he was on the phone and held them in the outer office, but Kyle didn’t have a secretary or assistant.  He acted like it was because he didn’t want one.  He’d been in charge of public relations for the band since they’d gotten signed on two years ago, and in that time Fai had seen five different assistants come and go.  The third one held the record, she’d made it a full month before quitting.  
  
“Sit down,” Kyle muttered, waving his hand in the direction of the empty chairs in front of his desk.  Fai grabbed the one that belonged at the vacant assistant’s desk and dragged it in.  
  
“How’ve you been?” he asked brightly.  
  
Kyle covered the mouthpiece of the phone and hissed “shut up a minute” and went back to his conversation.  Subaru kicked Fai’s ankle and gave him a disappointed look.  
  
“Okay, yeah, I know,” Fai muttered.  If you didn’t play nice with Kyle, he didn’t play nice back.  Nothing you could prove, nothing you could take to Okiura . . . But somehow after a concert there’d be a kid with a backstage pass asking about things they shouldn’t know of.  
  
They all sat there dully, none of them even listening to the phone conversation.  They weren’t the only group Kyle was in charge of, and this conversation seemed more like a personal call anyway.  They were all tired and just sort of floating.  
  
It was actually something of a surprise when Kyle suddenly started talking to them.  
  
“Well, you may have your faults but at least you’re punctual.”  
  
Now there was a promising lead-off.  
  
“Do you have any idea how hellish the last few months have been around here?”  
  
Fai resisted the urge to laugh, and found to his horror that the urge to cry was buried closely beneath it.  Best to do neither.  Just give him a poker face.  Come on, Fai, poker face, you have one.  Yes, the last few months had been _plenty_ hellish, but he was pretty sure Kyle was talking about himself.  
  
“Fai,” Kyle said helplessly, spreading his hands out wide in supplication, “we talked about it.  I don’t stand in the way of your creativity, and you don’t make it impossible for me to do my job.”  
  
“I’m sorry about the interview, okay?  I’m sorry I didn’t handle it the way we discussed.  But you told me that my not saying anything was causing the situation to escalate and you were having a hard time handling it.  I thought if I addressed it in a controlled environment, it would help.”  
  
“It was so sweet of you think about me,” Kyle said sarcastically.  “The road to hell is paved with good intentions, huh?”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Fai snapped.  “Hell” always made him a little jumpy, courtesy of Catholic grandparents who had been fond of telling him he was going there someday.  Kamui also seemed to be bristling in his seat, although he was keeping quiet for now.  Subaru was just staring at the desk with dull eyes.  
  
“To make a long story short, you made it worse, Fai,” Kyle snapped back.  “I have been _drowning_ in phone calls, and every message board on the internet has a flame war with your name on it.  I have slutty fan girls who are certain you are straight and are just being open minded, and that makes you even _more_ sexy.  I have queer advocacy groups who are pissed off and boycotting your band because you make homosexuality seem shameful.  I have a bunch of other rock bands and their fans who are trying to discredit the Cranes as musicians because they can’t come right out and say how awkward they would feel if their main competitor was a huge fag.  Do you get it now?”  
  
Fai slumped in his seat, feeling like a scolded child in spite of himself.  He really had opened a can of worms, whether he’d wanted to or not.  Just because Kyle was a jerk didn’t mean he was stupid, and he was trying to do a job that Fai had just made a lot more stressful.  
  
“Sorry for thinking it’s my own damn business,” he muttered, feeling petty for saying it but unable to stop himself from saying it all the same.  
  
Kyle laughed, because he was an asshole.  “You wanted to be a rockstar, Fai.  You wanted to be a celebrity.  Well, now you are.  And _nothing_ is your own damn business anymore.”  
  
Kamui’s hair all but stood on end.  “That’s bullshit,” he said.  “I don’t care how famous we get or whatever.  If we can’t have some kind of privacy, count me out.  I quit.”  
  
Kyle actually seemed to soften a bit, looking at Subaru, who was still just staring at the top of Kyle’s desk.  
  
“Settle down,” he said mildly.  “Obviously I’m doing my best, and let’s be honest, my best is pretty damn good.  You cancelled _three shows_ , you guys.  Three shows, so Subaru could go to the court sentencing.  And the public is completely convinced that it was all because Fai was down with the flu.”  
  
“Thank you,” Subaru suddenly spoke up.  “For everything you did for me.”  
  
Kyle was quiet for a moment.  “Well, I did my best.”  His face went sour.  “It would have helped if I’d had all the information a little sooner, you know.”  
  
Subaru finally looked up and met Kyle’s eyes.  “I’m sorry.”  
  
“I mean, you didn’t think I should know that the guy had been stalking you for _a year_ before I started trying to make a statement about his arrest?”  
  
Kyle hadn’t been at the sentencing, had only spoken to Subaru’s lawyer for maybe five minutes.  He didn’t even know.  A year?  Try five years.  Five years that Subaru had been living in silent terror of the man who was finally, at last, in prison.  
  
“I just didn’t want to make trouble for anybody,” Subaru whispered.  “I didn’t want them to have to worry about me.”  
  
“You didn’t want to make trouble?” Kyle repeated incredulously.  “You’re not that dumb, are you?  It didn’t occur to you that keeping it a secret was going to make a lot more trouble than telling the truth?  Or is the truth that you liked the attention?  Because let’s face it, if your goal was _not making trouble_ the thing to do would have been to just let him have his way and shut up about it.”  
  
Fai leapt to his feet.  He was so angry and his heart was pounding so hard that he couldn’t even get his words out of his throat.  He choked desperately on them.  
  
He needn’t have bothered.  Kamui had already launched himself over the desk.  
  
“You _cocksucking bastard_!” he screamed, sending papers flying.  The sound of his fist connecting with Kyle’s cheek was a peculiar, hollow _thunk_ that was lost beneath Kyle’s surprised yelp and the clatter of his chair falling over.  The two of them went sprawling over the floor, with Kamui sitting right on top of Kyle and pinning him to the floor.  The first punch was rapidly followed by several more.  “What are you trying to say, huh?” he said hysterically.  “You goddamn creep!  You trying to say this was his _fault_?  I will fucking shove your head so far up your ass that you’ll see your own fucking lungs, you bastard!”  
  
Fai should . . . He should really try to stop Kamui from doing this.  He should.  Kamui was going to seriously hurt the guy.  
  
Subaru had rounded the desk and was tugging rather ineffectually at his brother.  “Kamui, don’t,” he begged.  He wasn’t trying very hard, Fai noticed.  
  
Kamui’s knuckles were split open and so was Kyle’s cheek.  There was blood starting to get everywhere.  Fai finally shook off his anger and shock and forced himself to walk around the desk.  Kyle managed to throw up a hand in front of his face to try to ward off any more punches.  Kamui snarled and bit his hand.  
  
Kamui _bit him_.  
  
Fai finally got his hands under Kamui’s arms and dragged him away as hard as he could.  Kamui was still shouting, and he struggled to get free of Fai’s hold.  
  
“Kamui, that’s enough, stop,” Fai said.  “You’re going to put him in the hospital if you don’t stop.”  
  
Kamui snarled.  
  
“ _That’s enough_ ,” Fai said sternly.  
  
Kamui stopped fighting him.  He drew in a few ragged breaths, and blinked at the blood on his hands.  He straightened up, pulling away from Fai, and turned to look at Subaru.  Subaru was just standing there, looking down at Kyle, his face pulled tight with emotion but his eyes dry and blank.  He rubbed his hand over his arm as though he were cold.  
  
“Subaru?” Kamui asked hoarsely.  
  
Subaru shook his head slowly.  
  
“Come on,” Kamui said gently, reaching out his torn hand.  “Let’s get out of here, okay?”  
  
Subaru shuddered, then seemed to finally realize that Kamui had hurt himself in the process of hurting Kyle.  He reached out his arms and hugged him.  
  
“Are you okay?” he murmured.  
  
“What kind of stupid question is that?” Kamui demanded.  “I’m fine.  You’re the one—  yeah, I’m fine.”  
  
“Let’s go find a first aid kit,” Subaru said more firmly.  “I need to wash your hands and get these bandaged.”  
  
Kamui almost protested, but instead he bowed his shoulders and allowed Subaru to steer him out of the room.  “You don’t have to,” he muttered.  “I’m totally fine.”  
  
Fai let them go off on their own.  They needed a couple of minutes alone, and there was still a guy laying on the floor bleeding.  He offered his hand to Kyle and hauled him to his feet.  He didn’t try to stop his snickering.  Kyle’s left eye was red on its way to purple, his face was streaked with blood from his cheek and his nose, and Kamui had actually bit hard enough that his hand was swelling up and bruising.  
  
“Well, you’re a mess,” Fai said cheerfully.  “You should probably go clean that up.”  
  
“I’m going to urgent care,” Kyle muttered, wincing and pressing his good hand to his jaw.  “That kid is a rabid psycho.  He assaulted me.  I’m pressing charges.”  
  
He strode out of his office down the hall, and Fai followed him, snorting in derision.  
  
“No, you aren’t.  You really want anybody to find out what you just said?”  
  
Kyle glared at him, but didn’t argue the point any further.  He could tell that Fai was not kidding.  If he tried to have Kamui arrested for assault, Fai was going to tell every fan The Paper Cranes had that their PR agent thought rape victims were asking for it.  He would never find a job again.  
  
Fai waved at Okiura as he saw the studio head striding their way.  “Good afternoon, sir!”  
  
“What the hell happened?  I just saw the boys head for the bathroom looking like they had been in a— oh, for fuck’s sake, Kyle,” he cut himself off as he got close enough.  He sounded disgusted.  “What did you say this time?”  
  
Kyle sneered.  Well, he tried to sneer, but his mouth was in too much pain to pull it off.  “I was just trying to make a point,” he muttered.  
  
“Yes, well, sadly the road to hell is paved with good intentions,” Fai said sweetly.  “Also, you’re fired.”  
  
“You can’t fire me, idiot.”  
  
“No, Fai, you can’t.  What did he say?”  
  
Fai told him.  
  
Okiura stared at Kyle in disbelief.  “What the hell is wrong with you?”  
  
“Sir, I was just trying to say—”  
  
“Oh, shut up, Kyle.  You’re fired.”  


* * *

  
  
( _four years, eight months ago_ )  
  
“Yeah, what’s up?” Kamui responded to the knock.  
  
Fai opened the door only a crack, just in case that wasn’t a “you can come in” type of “what’s up.”  When no shrieking about being naked or busy ensued, he pushed it open a little further.  
  
“You guys doing okay?” he inquired mildly.  
  
“We’re fine,” Kamui said, sounding mystified that he’d ask.  Kamui was sitting on the edge of his bed plucking at a guitar and watching a show on the crappy little 13 inch t.v. that sat atop a bookshelf they’d shoved into the corner.  Subaru was on his own bed, asleep, although his guitar was leaning against the foot of the bed, suggesting that he’d been playing with Kamui earlier.  
  
“I just wanted to make sure you were settling in okay,” Fai continued, sliding fully into the room and taking in the posters they’d hung on the walls.  There were a few articles of laundry scattered on the floor and a couple of books were piled beside Kamui’s bed.  Well, at least they seemed comfortable with their own room.  
  
“Yeah, we’re fine,” Kamui repeated, looking confused and defensive.  
  
“That’s good.”  Fai smiled to soften the blow.  “You’re allowed to leave the bedroom, you know.”  
  
Kamui narrowed his eyes.  “We know.”  
  
Subaru snuffled in his sleep and rolled over.  Maybe they were being too loud.  Best not to wake him, the two of them had come back to the house really late last night.  Later than Fai had, and he’d closed the bar.  Which was a little concerning, because there was no place these two should have been playing that would keep teenagers occupied till four in the morning.  But hey, they were teenagers after all.  Fai was pretty sure his mother had climbed up the walls with anxiety over some of his antics in high school.  
  
“We don’t want to bother you,” Kamui added with less certainty, then ducked his head over his guitar and started playing something that apparently required concentration.  
  
“It wouldn’t bother me,” Fai said carefully, “if you guys wanted to treat this more like your own house.”  
  
Fai hadn’t really wanted roommates, despite how much he was struggling to pay the bills.  He was just trying to cope with losing Mom while somehow getting through his final year of school.  He didn’t want any intrusions.  But these two, they were different.  They weren’t just people who were helping pay the bills.  
  
 _“Sorry, just daydreaming,” Shizuka said, shaking it off and returning to helping Fai search the sheet music selection for the book he wanted.  But the frown lingered on his face.  
  
“What’s going on?” Fai asked.  Shizuka wasn’t the type to worry unnecessarily, so obviously there was something big on his mind.  
  
“Ah, nothing, it’s just these two kids I met yesterday,” he said.  “They came in for some new guitar strings and I got to talking with them.”  
  
Shizuka Doumeki often got customers to talk about way more than they normally would with a stranger.  It was something about his lack of reaction that made you feel like your problems weren’t so bad.  He was really accepting of other people’s quirks, too.  Never made you feel stupid.  It was a good trait to have, working in a music store.  The customers tended to be a grab bag of crazies.  
  
“Something about them has you worried?”  
  
“Yeah.  They just seemed like they needed help.”  
  
“Help?”  
  
“They said they came here from Florida just by pointing at a map with their eyes closed.  They had a place to stay for a while, but they’ve been sleeping out of their car the last couple of nights.  They’re trying to find work playing music, but they keep having to lie about their age to land gigs.  They’re just kids, man.  Seventeen.  They should still be in high school.  Said they dropped out, but didn’t say why.  Didn’t have to, really.  You can tell when someone’s running away from home.”  
  
“Siblings?”  
  
“Say they’re twins, actually.  Don’t look alike, but they’re the same age, so I guess.  I was just trying to think if I knew any place for them to stay.  They seemed like good kids.”  
  
Another funny thing about Shizuka.  He couldn’t be that much older than Fai—somewhere in his early twenties, for sure—but he was what you’d call an old soul.  Lived life at his own pace and didn’t worry about the things that seemed to bother most people.  He always talked about people in college or high school as kids.  
  
“Don’t you have an extra room in your place right now?” Fai asked, remembering that his last roommate had moved out recently.  Fai shopped at Guitar World frequently enough that he and Shizuka tended to chat about these things.  
  
“Yeah, but . . .” Shizuka trailed off, seeming to consider whether or not he should say anything.  “I might be giving the place up.  My boyfriend and I have been talking about moving in together.”  
  
“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” Fai said in surprise.  
  
“Uh, it‘s never been a big thing, but yeah, I guess I do. I met him here.  He was . . . A customer.  Then he got into the training program I’m in, so we were hanging out all the time, and it just kinda . . . Well, it’s an open relationship, we’re pretty chill about it.  But we’ve been thinking we might get a place together to save money.  But I don’t know.  If we decide not to do it, I might ask these kids if they want to stay at my place.”  
  
“I want to meet them,” Fai said, surprising himself even more than he surprised Shizuka.  Had he seriously just said that?  No, absolutely not, his life did not need any more complications right now . . . But for some reason, the thought of two teenagers running away from home and desperately trying to make it as musicians struck him.  Shades of a made-for-tv movie aside, he honestly was curious about why they’d captured Shizuka’s attention so quickly.  That, and let’s face it: the funeral bills were just sitting on top of a stack of hospital bills, and the bar did not pay him nearly enough to make a dent in it.  
  
He hadn’t expected them, even still.  The sad-eyed, soft-spoken one who walked around with his shoulders taut like he was waiting to be hurt, and the fierce one with the swagger who didn’t seem to know how obvious he was.  The chip on his shoulder was just his way of distracting and deflecting you from noticing that he was standing between you and his twin, in every way possible.  His anger was so completely obviously a mask for pain that he had to know everyone could see it, and yet he kept fighting like he didn’t know what else to do.  It was heartbreaking.  It was the polite, quiet twin that made Fai say yes, though.  He was so strangely composed.  Like he knew you would hurt him, but he wouldn’t let that stop him from being kind to you anyway.  It made Fai feel almost as desperate to look out for him as his brother.  
_  
Three weeks later, the twins had yet to loosen up and show any signs that they felt comfortable here.  If you didn’t count the guitar practice at all hours of the day and night (which didn’t bother him at all, it was nice to be around other musicians again) then it was like living with a pair of polite ghosts.  Occasionally he’d find traces that they’d been in the kitchen—empty takeout containers in the trash, a couple of cooking pans in the dishwasher—but they hardly ever emerged from their bedroom, preferring to simply haunt the house with music.  
  
“Great,” Kamui said after a long silence.  “Thanks.”  
  
He still didn’t seem to understand what Fai meant, but maybe Fai wasn’t giving him enough credit.  He was smiling a little when Fai closed the door and left them alone.  
  
Writing up and signing the impromptu lease was still the longest conversation they’d had thus far.  Fai had boldly asked them why they’d left school and come here.  Subaru had been the one who looked like he was going to cry when Kamui answered, “ _My girlfriend dumped me for another guy.  I just wanted to get out of there_.”  Fai remained unconvinced that Kamui had been telling the truth, but it was hardly his business.  
  
Fai decided to make a batch of his mom’s famous lingonberry scones.  Maybe the way to a teenaged boy’s heart really was through his stomach.  And even if it didn’t make them open up anymore, feeding them was good.  He hadn’t seen them eat much yet and he was worried that they didn’t have enough money for food.  He’d tried not to take their first rent payment and said he could wait until they had some money put aside, but Kamui had nearly bitten his head off, so he’d just taken the cash.  
  
He got out all the ingredients, and suddenly realized he’d used up the last of her stash of dried lingonberries to make the scones he’d brought her when she’d been in the hospital.  He’d never gone out for more, because there hadn’t been a reason.  He poked around the pantry, hoping for some other type of dried fruit.  Maybe he had some cranberries?  
  
“Can I help with anything?”  
  
He spooked when the soft voice came suddenly behind him, hitting his head on the pantry shelf and whirling around with his eyes smarting with tears.  
  
Subaru skittered halfway across the kitchen.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Fai groaned, rubbing the top of his head and checking for lumps.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Subaru whispered.  
  
“Hey, it’s totally okay.  You just startled me, that’s all.  I’m fine.”  Fai smiled at him as best he could through the lingering pain.  “Except that I can’t find any dried cranberries.  That is really my big concern right now.”  
  
Subaru brightened.  “There’s some in the cupboard over here.”  He reached into the cupboard where Mom had stored all her jars of spices, and pulled out a bag.  “Oh, it’s blueberries, sorry.”  
  
“That will work just fine,” Fai said, reaching out to take them.  “What were they doing over there?  Anyway, if you want to help, that would be nice.  These need to soak in some warm water to plump them up a bit, if you could get out a bowl to put them in.”  
  
Subaru nodded and found a plastic bowl, going to the sink to run the water to get it warm.  “What are you making?”  
  
“Scones.”  
  
“Are you taking them to work?”  
  
“They’re for us,” Fai grinned.  
  
“Us?”  
  
Fai kept grinning so Subaru wouldn’t see how sad Fai found it that he actually asked that. “You, me, your brother.  I occasionally like to bake.  It’s nice to have someone living here that will eat it so it doesn’t go to waste.”  
  
“Oh,” Subaru said, and blushed.  
  
They worked in near-silence for a few minutes, broken only by Fai asking for another ingredient to be passed to him from the cupboard where Subaru was standing, watching the berries slowly swelling up in the bowl of water.  
  
“Kamui wasn’t lying,” Subaru said suddenly.  “His girlfriend really did leave him for somebody else.”  
  
Fai grimaced in sympathy.  “That really sucks.”  
  
“It isn’t why we left.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Suddenly, Subaru was backing away, eyes fearful.  “How do you know?” he asked, gasping in panic.  
  
“Oh, god, no wait, Subaru.  I don’t know why you left.  I could just tell that Kamui getting dumped wasn’t the real reason.  Okay?  I don’t know anything.  It’s okay.  I’m sorry.”  
  
Subaru tried to steady himself.  “Oh. Right.”  
  
“Hey, it’s fine,” Fai said.  “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”  
  
“But I do want to,” Subaru said, and bit his lip.  “Kamui doesn’t want me to tell you.  He thinks we should just tell everyone it’s because Kotori dumped him.  But I . . . you’ve been really nice to us.  I didn’t— if anything does happen, I don’t want anything to happen to you.  I just want to tell you, and then if you don’t want us to stay here anymore . . . That’s why Kamui doesn’t want me to tell you, really.  He’s afraid you’ll kick us out, and he really likes it here.”  
  
Fai abandoned the dough he was mixing, turning around and dusting the flour from his hands.  “I can’t promise you what I will or won’t do, because I don’t know what the situation is.  But I can promise you that I’ll think about it before I make any kind of decision.  I like having you here.  Is that fair?”  
  
Subaru nodded.  
  
“Okay.  Go ahead.  I’m listening.”  
  
Subaru chewed at his lip, then finally spoke.  “My biology teacher was stalking me,” he said at last.  
  
That was not even close to what Fai had been expecting.  He barely managed to hang on to his resolution to be quiet and let Subaru speak.  
  
“He was— he was really creepy.  He just, he would always ask me to stay after class.  He said I was really bright and he had a lot to teach me.  We’d just talk about, about a lot of stuff.  But he got really possessive.  And he was— it wasn’t appropriate.  He would lock the door just to talk to me.  And then he didn’t want to just talk anymore.  He—”  Subaru’s voice trembled but he was taking huge deep breaths to try to control it.  “He would, you know, t-t-touch me and stuff.  I didn’t _want_ him to, I always asked him to stop, but he.  Um.  He used to threaten me.  He would say he’d hurt Kamui, and he’d mess with my grades.  I didn’t know what to do,” Subaru whispered, wiping tears from his cheeks.  
  
“Why didn’t you tell an adult?” Fai asked, dumbfounded.  
  
“I did,” Subaru said raggedly.  “I told the vice principal and I told our parents, but they didn’t listen.  They thought I was lying because my grades _were_ getting worse and they thought I was making up excuses, and Seishirou was this, this _upstanding citizen_ and _dedicated teacher_ , and just nobody listened and I was scared, and Kamui— Kamui said we needed to go before it got any worse.  So we just, we just left.”  
  
“That’s when you came here?”  
  
“Yeah.  I thought . . . I don’t think he’d ever try to look for me or anything.  And I don’t think he could find me here anyway.  I just thought, in case I’m wrong, I thought you should know.  I don’t want you to get dragged into it if anything . . .”  
  
Fai still had flour on his hands, but that didn’t seem important right now.  He crossed the kitchen and grabbed Subaru into a tight hug.  Subaru squeaked in surprise, but Fai refused to let go.  
  
“Thank you for telling me,” Fai said gently.  “It means a lot to me to have your trust.  I know I promised to think about it, but fuck that.  I don’t need to think about it.  You are welcome here for as long as you want to stay, and I am not even remotely worried about your sick fuck of a biology teacher.  If he ever did show up here, I’d hold him down so Kamui could kick his ass.  Okay?”  
  
Subaru let out a small, choked sound, and a sudden blossoming of wet warmth on Fai’s chest told him the kid had started crying.  He wanted to move them into the living room and sit down on the couch, but he was afraid Subaru would retreat if he did that.  So he just stood still and held on and tried not to think about the bowl of dough that was going bad on the counter.  Subaru obviously needed this more than he needed scones anyway.  


* * *

  
  
“I didn’t do much, just dusted and vacuumed a bit.  Your friends dropped off your things from the apartment yesterday, so I just put all of it in the closet so it wouldn’t be too cluttered up.”  
  
“Thanks, Dad,” Sakura said, still leaning against him and feeling his arm around her.  She hadn’t moved from his side since she’d walked through the front door, even as he’d tried and failed to talk her into eating lunch and escorted back to her old bedroom.  She hadn’t even moved half of her things to begin with, so she didn’t need most of the stuff from the apartment right away.  It could wait until tomorrow.  
  
“Are you upset about this?” Dad asked, squeezing her shoulders.  
  
She shook her head.  “Not really.  I told them to do this, since I didn’t know when I’d be back.”  
  
“Still, kind of a drag to move back in with your old man, isn’t it?” he chuckled.  
  
Sakura pressed herself even closer.  “I missed you, Daddy,” she said simply.  Maybe it was a little sad, she’d moved out two years ago and gotten an apartment with some of her old friends from high school, and coming back home when she was twenty one and a _rock star_ (yep: that was still weird to think about) was going to take some adjusting.  But she could be honest with herself and admit she wouldn’t find it so hard.  They’d been on the road since January, and she’d barely seen Dad this entire year.  This would be nice, at least for a while.  
  
“Do you want me to leave you alone so you can rest?” he asked, sympathy in his voice.  
  
“Mmm.  Yeah.  Thank you.”  
  
“Of course,” he said, dropping a kiss on her forehead.  “If you wake up in time for dinner, I’ll have the boys come over.  I’ve missed family dinner.”  
  
“We did, too, all of us.”  
  
Dad looked hopeful at that.  “Is Kurogane . . .?”  
  
“He’s a lot better.  It’s not like it used to be, him and Touya aren’t attached at the hip again or anything, but . . . He hung out with us a lot, while we were traveling.  I think he finally figured out we want him with us, even if he doesn’t get up on stage.”  
  
“So he’d actually come if I told him to come over?” Dad asked eagerly.  
  
“I think so,” Sakura grinned, her own happiness tripled at seeing how happy it made Dad.  “But maybe hold off and don’t do it today.  I know you’re really excited to have us all home again, but let’s wait until we all get a chance to relax.”  
  
“You can relax here,” Dad pouted, but he kissed her forehead again.  “I can take a hint.  I’ll let you nap.  Did I tell you I like your hair?”  
  
Sakura rolled her eyes.  “No, but thank you.”  
  
“Love you, sweetheart,” he murmured as she closed the door on him.  
  
She just leaned on the door for a moment, gathering herself.  Her hip was aching fiercely.  It didn’t normally, but then normally she wore special shoes unless she was onstage.  Her boots looked kickass, but they existed for function: one of the soles was much thicker than the other, because one of her legs was shorter than the other.  She’d been dumb and not worn them, assuming since they were sitting on the bus most of two days that she’d be fine with regular shoes.  She’d been wrong.  
  
She’d been hiding it from Dad so he wouldn’t worry, but now she hobbled across the room to the bed and considered running a bath to soak some of the pain away.  Instead, she flopped backward to lay down.  On her way down, she grabbed the framed photograph she kept on the nightstand.  
  
“Hey, you,” she said quietly.  “What do you think?  You like the hair?  I knew you would.”  
  
A pair of warm brown eyes twinkled out of the photo at her.  She wasn’t a crazy person or anything, it wasn’t as though she thought Syaoran was listening.  But sometimes she liked talking to him anyway.  She’d gotten so used to sharing everything with him when he was here, that it was hard to break the habit after he was gone.  
  
“I told Kurogane, sort of,” she said, rolling over onto her side and setting the photo next to her head on the pillow.  “I mean, I didn’t exactly _tell him_ , tell him.  But I told him I’d been checking out one of the women from his crew.  I don’t know why I’m so scared to tell my dad—I mean, it’s _Dad_ —but I haven’t said anything to him or Touya yet.  I don’t know why I thought it would be easier to start with your brother, but I did.  But anyway, he was really chill about it.  I feel a little better about coming out now.”  
  
Syaoran’s eyes, frozen in time these past six years, still somehow seemed to be mocking her.  Okay, maybe she was a bit crazy.  
  
“I never could figure out what it was about you,” she whispered.  “I’ve tried to figure it out, because I haven’t looked at a guy since.  I mean, was I always supposed to like girls, and you were just that special?  I don’t think I would have been able to deal with it, except you were so cool about it.”  
  
 _“You’re my best friend, Sakura,” he said earnestly, holding her hand tightly.  “I love you no matter what.  If you want to stay with me, I’ll be the luckiest guy ever.  But if you can’t, then I’d still be your friend.  I want you to be happy, more than anything.”  
  
She cried with relief, and leaned in to kiss him.  “I’m happy with you, I’m always happy with you.”_  
  
“I still miss you so bad,” she whispered, touching the glass with a fingertip.  “You’d love all of this, the tour and the tshirts and the screaming fans.  I don’t get why things happened this way.  I keep thinking it should be you up there with us, you and Kurogane, but if you were then we wouldn’t have Fai or Kamui or Subaru, and I love those guys, I wouldn’t want to lose them.  I don’t know why I had to lose my best friend to get all of this.  It isn’t fair.  It’s not even—Kurogane needed you, he needed you so much more than any of us needed to be in this band.  I’d give it all back if it meant Kurogane could have you back.  I know I can’t do that and that’s why this is so unfair.”  
  
She sighed, and put Syaoran’s photo back on the nightstand.  
  
“But I said I’d work hard and I’d make you proud.  So I’m trying.”  
  
  She closed her eyes, letting drowsiness take her.  
  
“Hope the others are settling in okay,” she mumbled before she drifted off.  “We could all use a day off.”


	4. Chapter 4

_For everything you’ve lost  
And all you’ve overcome  
I wanna be the one to put it in a song_  
  
  
  
Kurogane didn’t just go around staring at the Paper Cranes’ lead singer or hang on his every word or anything.  He wasn’t that pathetic.  
  
He didn’t think he was.  
  
But it was entirely possible that he paid more attention to him than he did to anyone else, he was man enough to admit that.  He was not yet man enough to admit that he’d missed important cues during concerts before because he’d been too mesmerized by Fai’s performance to do his job.  But yeah, he knew exactly why chicks threw their panties at the guy.  Offstage, he was actually on the quiet side, reserved even.  Music made him into someone else.  Whether it was singing in front of thousands of people in a packed amphitheatre or just screwing around with a harmonica during a rest stop on the road, something about the music made Fai seem more confident, more happy, more _him_.  
  
Maybe he didn’t like to talk about it, but Kurogane still remembered what it was like.  When it was a guitar and a mic and your eyes locked on to someone in the crowd who was there to listen to _you_.  He knew about hours picking out the same three chords, over and over, because creating something was a thrill even when it was tedious.  Yeah, Kurogane knew what Fai felt, when he got like that.  
  
But he didn’t think it had ever made him look that fucking gorgeous.  
  
So maybe he tended to be listening to and hearing things that weren’t his business sometimes, because when Fai was speaking his ears perked up.  He could admit that to himself (and once, while drowsily discussing matters of the heart with the kid, admit it to Fuuma).  
  
So it was just a happenstance that he found out that he wasn’t the only one ready to call Kamui out on his bullshit.  
  
“Hey, don’t look so sad,” Fai said, slinging his arm over Subaru’s shoulders.  They were all helping unload equipment and sort out what belonged to the studio and what belonged to the musicians.  Kurogane was in a hurry to get things packed away and get home, because he was sick of being on the road and now that he was finally back he was ready to stop working and just chill out in his apartment for a couple of days.  “It’s not like we’re never going to see each other again.  We’ve got to keep making a living, right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Subaru answered with one of his half-smiles that basically were patented tools to break your heart.  Kurogane barely even knew the kid and still felt alarmingly protective of him.  After everything that had come to light in the aftermath of arresting that fucking psycho Seishirou, even more so.  “I know.  I’m glad to be home, anyway, I’m not worried about that.”  
  
“So what are you worried about?” Fai asked quietly.  
  
“Fuuma,” Subaru said plainly.  
  
Fai looked surprised, but Kurogane just felt vindication.  
  
“What about Fuuma?”  
  
Kurogane got busy with handing equipment out to other people so he could stay in one spot for a minute.  
  
“I thought he’d be going home, I mean, he was in school and his family and everything . . . Did you know he’s staying here?”  
  
“Yeah, I asked him about it.  He said he can’t go home, actually, although he didn’t say why.”  
  
Subaru looked miserable.  “Because he lost his scholarship and his parents are too pissed off to let him come home.  ‘Just because his friends are throwing away their future doesn’t mean he should . . .’ I asked him about it, too.  He said if he can’t get back into school, and his options are making his own way in Chicago or doing it in Tampa, he’d rather stay here with the rest of us.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I just . . . don’t think Kamui knows that.  I don’t think he . . . I really think Kamui should have asked him about this stuff.  I just— he’s my brother and he’s great, but sometimes I just— you know?”  
  
“Yeah,” Fai said absently, patting Subaru on the head before letting go of him at last.  He had noticed Kurogane’s eyes on him, and turned to meet his gaze.  He knew Kurogane could hear them.  “You’d better grab your guitar before one of these idiots puts it with the studio equipment,” he told Subaru, who went to do just that.  
  
Kurogane totally didn’t straighten up his shoulders and tighten his abs when Fai walked over, because that was so fucking high school and he was over that shit.  He _totally didn’t_.  And he didn’t run his tongue over his teeth and worry about whether or not he’d flossed lately, either.  Because why would that be important, exactly?  So he definitely didn’t.  
  
“What’s up?” he asked gruffly, picking up an incredibly heavy piece of equipment but only because it needed moved and not to show off.  
  
“Nothing, just thought since you and Fuuma spend so much time together maybe you’d know if he’s going to be okay.  Does he have a place to stay?  I don’t remember where he was living before we left.”  
  
“He has a place to stay,” Kurogane confirmed, going for another piece of equipment.  “He’s staying with me.”  
  
Fai looked surprised.  “Oh.  _Oh_.  You guys are . . .?”  
  
“What,” Kurogane grunted, and then it struck him and he almost dropped an amp.  “Oh fuck no.  No!  We are not.  He’s staying with me because he doesn’t have a place of his own and I have a spare bedroom.”  
  
Fai’s eyes clouded a bit.  “Yeah, I heard.  Sorry, man, that sucks.”  
  
“Nah, not really,” Kurogane shrugged.  How did Fai . . .?  Well, as a musician he probably had shopped at the store.  Maybe he’d found out straight from the horse’s mouth.  “We never made it that serious, we always figured we’d move on to other people.  Sucks it happened while I was out of town and we couldn’t really talk about it, but I’m fine with it.”  
  
He was, even though Yukito had given him those godawful sad-puppy eyes when Kurogane had said so to him and Touya.  He was completely fine with his boyfriend meeting his soul mate and moving out of their place.  They’d never made any promises they weren’t planning to keep.  Yukito could make sad-puppy eyes all day, but Kurogane wasn’t exactly crying himself to sleep.  
  
Still.  He was glad Fuuma was moving in for a while.  Kurogane had gotten used to someone being around.  
  
“So.  Does Kamui seriously just not give a shit?”  
  
Fai grimaced.  “I don’t know?”  
  
Kurogane snorted.  
  
“I honestly don’t.  I’m as close to Kamui as anyone can be, but Fuuma is like a nuclear threat.  You only bring him out in conversation if you have no choice and are prepared for a dramatic response.”  
  
Kurogane snorted again.  “Fuck that,” he said decisively.  He marched over to Kamui, who was helping Sakura get her stuff into her brother’s car.  “Hey, I gotta talk to you for a second,” he said, dragging the kid away from Sakura.  
  
“Whoa, hey, overkill,” Kamui squawked, writhing out of his grip.  “What the fuck?”  
  
“You’re kind of a dick,” Kurogane informed him.  Seriously, this couldn’t be much of a surprise.  The kid had to know this about himself.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Do you know, or even care, what Fuuma plans to do with his life now?  We probably won’t tour again for a couple of years, you know that right?”  
  
Kamui glared at him.  “What?  He’s going back home, isn’t he?”  
  
Kurogane really wanted to punch this kid in the mouth sometimes.  “No.  He isn’t.  He is currently unemployed and homeless in a city he doesn’t know that well.”  
  
Kamui looked uncertain, now.  
  
“You know why that is?” Kurogane asked, raising his eyebrows.  
  
“No?”  
  
“It’s because of you, kid.”  
  
“How is it my fault?  Or my problem, for that matter?”  
  
“Fuck, I know you’re an asshole but are you that dumb on top of it?  What do you mean, how is it your problem?  _You_ called him up and said you needed his help.  _You_ invited him to move to Chicago and be part of this.  _You_ did.  I didn’t say it’s your responsibility to find him a home or job or anything like that.  I just wanted to point out that he made a lot of sacrifices to be here.  For _you_.”  
  
“I didn’t ask him to sacrifice _anything_ ,” Kamui snarled.  “I said we were looking for a guy to run the lights, and he said sit tight he was on his way.  He didn’t tell me it was a problem, and I never said, ‘drop everything in your life for me’ so don’t lay this on me.  And what is your fucking point, anyway?  What do you want from me?”  
  
“I want you to make up your goddamn mind,” Kurogane shouted, pissed off beyond reason now and getting in the kid’s face.  Fuuma was a good kid and a hard worker, and Kurogane had been looking after him for a while now.  It just burned him up that this kid could mess Fuuma up so much, because he had a lot going for him otherwise.  “If you want him, then fucking be man enough to admit it.  And if you don’t, _stop asking him for things_ and leave him the fuck alone.  You know what he wants, and if you’re not going to give it to him then stop taking advantage of him.  You might be okay with being a selfish asshole, that’s your problem.  But if it hurts my friends, then it’s my problem.  So fucking figure it out, yeah?”  
  
Kamui wasn’t even pretending to be angry anymore.  He was leaning back against one of the buses, looking stricken.  Kurogane lost the urge to punch him, because it made the kid look like he was twelve years old when his eyes went all big and wobbly like that.  
  
“Get over yourself,” he muttered, and went back to work.  
  
Everyone was staring at them, although most people hadn’t heard enough of the conversation or didn’t know enough about the situation to put it together.  Fuuma had gone inside and hadn’t overheard, so Kurogane didn’t really give a fuck.  The rest of them could think whatever they wanted.  
  
Although he did notice that Fai was staring at him like he’d never seen him before.  


* * *

  
  
( _seven months ago_ )  
  
The show had ended and most of the band was backstage hanging out with the veeps and kids who’d gotten passes.  Bottles were being passed around, eager questions were being answered, Sakura was laughing and chatting with some girl who had her pink-cheeked and hesitant—that was weird, what were they talking about?—and Kamui had an arm around a woman on either side of him, grinning and letting the two of them slide their hands over his legs and press a drink to his lips.  
  
Kurogane had come in for a second to let Touya know that he’d found the source of the problem he’d had with his keyboard tonight and he’d called ahead to their next destination and found a repair shop.  He could barely stand being in the room.  That was not his life anymore, he was not the kind of person who enjoyed it anymore.  He could honestly say he’d never want that kind of shit back.  It made his skin crawl to be in the middle of it.  
  
He couldn’t get out of there fast enough.  He’d just find Fuuma and a couple of other guys and play poker or something until they were ready to hit the road.  
  
It took a while, but he finally found Fuuma in an alley behind the building, alone and obviously upset.  He was shadow-boxing and letting out sharp, angry cries with each swing.  Kurogane watched quietly for a moment.  Fuuma’s face twisted up and suddenly he let out a yell and punched a metal dumpster.  The _clong_ echoed around for a few seconds, and in the aftermath while Fuuma was clutching his hand to his stomach and groaning, he finally looked up and saw Kurogane there.  
  
“What?” he snarled.  
  
“Nothing, man, I was just looking for you.  What’s eating you?”  
  
“Nothing,” Fuuma spat out poisonously.  “I’m fucking fine.”  
  
“Your hand okay?” Kurogane asked calmly.  
  
“What do you think?” Fuuma snarled, looking down at the hand he was clutching against himself with his other hand.  “I just dislocated my fucking finger, _fuck_.”  
  
“Give me your hand,” Kurogane said patiently.  “I’ll put it back for you.”  
  
“What?” Fuuma panted.  
  
“Just give me your hand.”  
  
Fuuma held out his hand, looking nauseated.  “Are you really gonna—”  
  
“On the count of five, okay?  Take a deep breath.  One, two, _five_ —”  
  
“Aaaggghhhh, fuck!  Ow ow ow!”  
  
Fuuma held his hand up to his eyes and saw that Kurogane had successfully popped his finger back into place.  He blew out a deep breath and his shoulders slumped.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
Kurogane crossed his arms and leaned casually back against the wall of the alley, looking up at the stars he could locate through the smoky night pollution.  
  
“Hey, man, you’re allowed to have your own business, but you can talk to me.”  
  
Fuuma’s eyes were wide and shining back the glare of a streetlight at the mouth of the alley.  They’d worked together for a while, but they didn’t get into each other’s personal baggage.  Fuuma looked too surprised by the offer to know what to do with it.  
  
“Might be better to get it off your chest.”  
  
It was times like this that Kurogane wished he smoked.  This was a perfect moment to light up and offer one to the kid.  But there was that whole deal about smoking being really awful for you, so Kurogane didn’t.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a guitar pick, flipping it around in his fingers while he waited.  Old habits.  
  
“What fucking good would that do?” Fuuma muttered, leaning against the wall face-first and using his uninjured arm to shield his face from the rough surface.  “I get it off my chest, but he’ll still sleep with that chick that’s wrapped around him.  It just fucking sucks that no matter what I do, it’s no good because I’m not some— some stupid bitch with like, hair— and, and eyelashes and lipstick and fucking _tits_.  What the fuck do you do with tits, anyway?  Play the bongos on them?  I just don’t know anymore, you know?  I don’t know what I’m doing here.  I’m such a fucking idiot.  Always been an idiot.  Can’t help it.  But this _blows_.”  
  
Kurogane had honestly assumed the back-and-forth routine with Fuuma teasing and turning everything into innuendo while Kamui snarled and bitched and yelled at him was just some sort of leftover from high school that only made sense if you’d been there.  He’d never thought Fuuma was that serious about it.  He treated the whole thing like it was a joke, and Kamui delivered such satisfying explosions when teased.  
  
He kept thinking that, until Fuuma lifted his face from the wall and Kurogane saw that he was crying.  
  
“Fuck, sorry,” Fuuma muttered, wiping a shaking hand over his wet cheek.  He grit his teeth and wouldn’t look at Kurogane.  “I’m going to the bus to crash, okay?  Wake me up if you need me to do anything before we get out of here.”  
  
Kurogane couldn’t exactly sympathize or say he knew what it felt like.  He’d never had a thing for a straight guy, unless you counted being attracted to Fai and all his evasive bullshit.  If he had to give an answer for why he hadn’t let the kid walk away, hadn’t just let it go and never brought it up again, he wouldn’t have had a reason.  He didn’t know.  (Every instinct he had was screaming at him that he was an older brother and this was his job but he couldn’t face that.  So he would have said he didn’t know.)  
  
“Hey,” he said, following Fuuma around the building and back toward the vehicles.  “I said you can talk to me.  It’s fine.”  
  
“What’s to talk about?” Fuuma muttered.  
  
“Whatever, man.  Maybe talking won’t help, but maybe it will.  You don’t know if you don’t try.”  
  
“What do you want to know?”  
  
They entered the equipment trailer and starting checking stuff in to make sure it was all accounted for, without saying a word about it.  They’d gotten good at working together.  Someone else had probably done this already, but it was easier to talk sometimes when you were doing something else.  
  
“Tell me, uh, tell me how you guys met.”  
  
“Don’t fucking laugh at me for this.”  
  
“I won’t.”  
  
“It was fate.”  
  
“Not laughing.  Go on.”  
  
“There wasn’t any reason for the two of us to ever talk to each other, you know?  I was a year older than him and played basketball, and if there’s one group of kids we didn’t talk to, it was the drama geeks.  I didn’t even know the kid existed.  But then my sister tried out for a play and got the part, and got all excited, and then she comes home one day and tells me she’s going out with the lead actor.  And that was my baby sister, you know?  So I wanted to make sure this guy she was seeing was okay.  I—”  
  
“Wait.  Wait, wait, _wait._   Kamui was going out with your _sister_?”  
  
“You said you wouldn’t laugh.”  
  
“I lied,” Kurogane whimpered past the laughter in his chest, actually trying to hold back because Fuuma was upset and all.  “I just— It’s like an episode on that godawful high school soap opera show that Syaoran and Sakura used to watch when they were like, thirteen.”  
  
“Right,” Fuuma said bitterly, kicking a discarded soda can out of the back of the trailer and watching it skitter across the blacktop, flashing back a dizzy pattern of reflected light.  “Must have been that episode about not judging a book by its cover, right?  Maybe the good-looking jock who plays basketball and gets all the ladies is secretly a queer, and maybe the gorgeous kid in the drama department is somehow the straight one.  And maybe this guy’s sister is a total bitch and cheats on her boyfriend and dumps him for a hippie, and if this was television, he’d have fallen into my arms at the end and I’d have told him how sorry I was that my sister sucks but he’d have it better with me anyway and we’d walk off into the sunset holding hands.”  
  
“Dude.  She cheated on him?”  
  
“Not like, _cheated_ cheated—I mean, she’d fucking better not have, I’m already pissed at her enough—but yeah, there was this college kid who was studying theatre and was getting credit by volunteering at our school.  Kakyo.  He was a total psycho, all into dream interpretation and shit.  Kotori got this huge ego because she was the starring actress, and Kakyo fed her all this bullshit about how far she could go and how talented she was, and she fell all over herself for him.  Dumped Kamui so she could spend even more time getting told how talented she was by that assclown.  And he didn’t deserve it, okay?  He’d been really good to her.  And I had wanted to keep an eye on them because I’m the protective type of older brother, so I joined the stupid drama club.  I learned how to do the light and effects for the stage, and I ended up really liking it, I kept doing it at the university . . . But yeah, I was hanging around all the time, so I got a front-row seat for all of this.  I got to watch him get shut out by the drama department because they idolized Kakyo and they didn’t want Kotori on their bad side.  It was . . . really shitty for him.  He’d been really popular with them and suddenly they turned on him.  Kinda shitty for me, too, because there wasn’t anything I could do.”  
  
“I take it he didn’t fall into your arms, then.”  
  
“Do you fucking see him in my arms?” Fuuma muttered.  “No.  There was.  There was this other thing going on back then.  I can’t really tell you about it.  It was this thing with Subaru—that part of the plan worked out splendidly, by the way, we got to be friends really easily and I thought I had this great _in_ with Kamui because his brother liked me—but yeah.  So I can’t talk about it but some things happened.  I’d already graduated, I was playing basketball for University of Tampa, but I knew about it.  And that’s when they left.”  
  
“Left?”  
  
“Dropped out of their senior year.  Skipped town.  Moved to Chicago.”  
  
“Oh,” Kurogane said.  Maybe he should try harder to be in the loop or something, because he’d had no idea about that.  
  
“Long story short, I never got over him.  So when he called and said he was in a band and their main tech could use a hand until they got a record deal, I . . . I don’t know what I thought was gonna happen.  I just didn’t want to stay there making nice with my sister and playing ball when I could be in Chicago with him.  You know?”  
  
He didn’t know, not really.  He’d never felt like that about somebody, that somebody might be worth all that.  But that didn’t really matter that much right now.  “Yeah.  Not gonna lie, you’re in a pretty shitty situation.  I doubt there’s anything I can do to make it any better for you, but I’ll keep an eye out.”  
  
“Naw, don’t worry about it.  About me.  I’m fine.  Thanks, though.”  
  
“No problem.”  
  
“Seriously.  Thank you.  For just, you know, letting me talk.  I . . . kinda feel better.  I guess.”  
  
“Good,” Kurogane said, slinging an arm over his shoulders and leading him out of the stuffy trailer that always smelled like motor oil and weed.  “Now come on, let’s go round up a couple of guys for poker.  We’re going to be here for a while.”  


* * *

  
  
“Aw, come on, seriously,” Fuuma muttered, nervously jigging up and down while he shuffled toward the counter, his phone plastered to his ear.  “Just pick up already.”  
  
The man working the register was smiling pleasantly and seemed to be enjoying himself despite the line being six people deep and growing.  The girl calling out orders at the pickup counter seemed harassed and was barking out specifications like they disgusted her.  
  
“Pick up or you’re getting plain old boring ass coffee, boss,” he told his phone as he hung up.  DUDE I JUST NEED TO KNOW WHAT KIND OF COFFEE YOU DRINK he texted.  
  
Fuuma was being a complete tool by not just ordering the aforementioned boring ass coffee, because he knew Kurogane drank it black all the time.  But they’d also been on Starbucks runs before in which Kurogane ordered . . . Something.  Maybe it was sad that Fuuma had known the guy for almost three years and still didn’t know how he liked his coffee, but why would he be paying attention to stuff like that?  Now it was coming back to bite him, because he wanted to do something to say thank you and this was about all he could do at the moment.  
  
The person in line behind him had his hands in his pockets, gazing out the window, seeming to be in no hurry.  Still, as Fuuma started dialing again, he waved his hand at the guy to gesture him to move forward.  
  
“Go ahead, I’m still trying to figure out my order,” he said, indicating his phone.  “He’s just being an ass, I know he’s not busy.  Come _on_ , Kurogane, seriously.”  
  
The guy smirked the slightest bit as he took the invitation to cut in line, like he thought something was funny.  
  
“Why do people even have phones if they’re not going to answer them, right?” Fuuma sighed, giving up and putting his phone away.  “What’s so funny?” he asked the guy, who was still smirking.  
  
“Nothing.  I know somebody named Kurogane, and he never answers his phone either.”  
  
Fuuma snorted.  “How many antisocial grumpasses named Kurogane can there be?  We’re probably talking about the same guy.”  Which wouldn’t be that weird, he was at a coffee shop right around the corner from the apartment.  It was possible that someone who knew him also frequented this shop.  
  
“Big guy, lots of tats, doesn’t talk much?”  
  
“That’s the one.  Hey, that’s funny, what are the chances?”  
  
They were at the counter and the cheerfully crowd-controlling guy was raising his eyebrows to politely interrupt.  
  
“Morning, Adam,” the guy drawled, hands still in his pockets.  “Usual two caramel machiattos, for one thing.  You got a dark roast brewing?  Yeah?  You got almond milk?  Okay.  Au lait, dark roast with almond milk.  And whatever this dude is having,” he added, waving a hand at Fuuma.  
  
Disconcerted, Fuuma took a step back.  Maybe the guy knew Kurogane, but Fuuma knew better than to trust people just because they seemed legit.  “Uh, no, that’s, that’s fine, dude no offense but I don’t know you—”  
  
“You’re a friend of Kurogane’s,” the guy said patiently, “so it’s cool.  What are you having?”  
  
Fuuma sheepishly ordered himself a mocha, and tried very hard to pay but was lazily rebuffed.  Once the transaction was complete and they’d stepped to the side, Fuuma frowned.  
  
“Uh, thanks, but what the hell.  I mean, for one thing, you just paid for my coffee and I don’t know you, and for another thing, almond milk?  _Kurogane_ drinks that?”  
  
“He’s lactose intolerant,” the guy said patiently, a smirk still quietly lingering in the corners of his mouth.  “Regular milk makes him yak.  When you pick it up, stir some cinnamon in there, by the way, he likes cinnamon.”  
  
Fuuma was fairly speechless at this point.  Who the hell was this guy?  
  
“As for paying, consider it my way of wishing you good luck.  If you’re going out with Kurogane, you’ll need it.”  
  
“What,” Fuuma muttered.  “With . . . Huh?”  
  
The remains of that smirk said it all.  
  
“ _Oh not a chance in fucking hell_ ,” Fuuma said fervently.  “Me and Kurogane going _out_ would be . . .   Who _are_ you?”  
  
“His ex,” the guy grinned.  “Hey, when did he get back?”  
  
“Yesterday.”  
  
The door blew open and admitted a slender man with pale skin and electrifying eyes, who made a beeline straight for them.  Fuuma instinctively took a step back.  
  
“Please tell me you have my coffee,” he moaned.  “I need caffeine so very, very much.”  
  
“It’s coming, hold your horses,” the guy said, then grabbed one slender hand and pulled the man forward to peck him on the lips.  
  
“Good morning to you, too,” the blue-eyed one spluttered, face going pink as he looked over at Fuuma, who was still standing there rather befuddled by it all.  
  
“So anyway.  I’m Shizuka, this is my boyfriend Kimihiro Watanuki, and you are . . . _not_ Kurogane’s boyfriend?”  
  
Fuuma was not really sure his mind could contain both the reality of Kurogane’s ex-boyfriend buying him coffee and the implication that he himself was dating the boss.  That was too much weirdness all at the same time.  
  
“I’m Fuuma,” he finally said.  
  
Shizuka just nodded.  “Yeah, he told me about you, I figured you were Fuuma.  I just figured that after being on the road together that long you two were probably banging each other.”  
  
“Oh my god, you are _disgusting_ ,” Kimihiro hissed, digging fingers into Doumeki’s arm, who didn’t even flinch.  
  
Fuuma finally kicked his brain into gear enough to find this funny, because it totally was.  “Well, banging isn’t the same as dating, you know.  There’s the occasional friendly bj but— _Anyway._   The two of us both have our sights set elsewhere, so no.  Wow.  You’re the ex.  Huh.  He mentioned he had a boyfriend a couple of times, but you’re really not what I imagined.”  
  
Shizuka just gave him a rather serene look.  He was still holding the other guy’s hand, like it wasn’t totally awkward to be talking about your previous boyfriend’s sex life in front of the current boyfriend.  He didn’t seem bothered by the possibility that Kurogane was dating someone else, either.  Maybe Fuuma had been expecting something else, but he could see the appeal of dating someone this confident and chilled out.  
  
“So, yeah, thanks.  Dark owlet or whatever it’s called, and no regular milk.  I’ll try to remember that.  I better get this back to him before it gets cold.”  
  
“You’re staying at the apartment?”  
  
“Yeah, for now,” Fuuma shrugged.  “I was staying with these other guys when I first got to Chicago, but they’re not around anymore, so Kurogane said I could stay with him for a while.”  
  
“That’s good,” Shizuka said thoughtfully.  
  
“It is?”  
  
“That somebody’s going to be there,” Shizuka said, and there was a frown building up between his eyebrows that hadn’t reached his mouth yet.  His new boyfriend was running a hand up his arm with one of those caring expressions that you only saw on people who were dating.  “Hey, let’s go to the apartment.”  
  
“Right now?” Kimihiro said incredulously.  
  
“Yeah,” Shizuka answered calmly.  “I wanted to introduce you guys, and I need to talk to him.  Might as well—unless you guys were planning on friendly bjs this morning,” he added with a sudden grin at Fuuma.  
 _  
Yes yes there is someone else with my sense of humour after all, oh god I love this guy_  
  
“Aw, it can wait, we’ve got all day,” Fuuma grinned back.  “Sure, I guess.  It’s just around the corner at— oh, duh, you know that, I’m an idiot, I moved into your room.  Anyway.  See you guys there in a minute.”  
  
“I have to be at work in an hour,” Kimihiro scolded him as they went out to their cars.  
  
“You don’t have to come.”  
  
“See, there’s love, there’s trust, and then there’s leaving you alone with a guy you’re not actually over.”  
  
“I could tell you that you have nothing to worry about, but you’ll worry anyway.”  
  
“Weird as this seems, we only met six months ago and I don’t know you that well yet.  Oh god, six months and we’ve already moved in together and you quit your second job for me.  You are the greatest mistake of my life.  What am I doing here?  My life makes no sense.  I am soooo not leaving you alone with your ex.”  
  
“Kid’ll be there,” Shizuka said, gesturing at Fuuma with his coffee cup.  
  
“I am an excellent chaperone,” Fuuma said, raising his fist in victory.  “I am the reigning champion of cockblocking.  The king.  I have years of experience.  I am an Olympic medalist in cockblocking.”  
  
Kimihiro just gaped at both of them for a minute.  “I am coming with you.  At this point, just to see if maybe Kurogane is a sane and rational person.  I might leave the two of you alone together and run away with him.”  
  
Shizuka’s response was growl, then push the guy up against his car and kiss him rather passionately, so Fuuma grimaced and ducked into Kurogane’s car and hurried to get back to the apartment to warn him of impending visitors.  Which he could have _done_ already if the guy would just answer his—  
  
His phone rang.  “Oh, _now_ you feel like answering your phone.”  
  
“Don’t order me any of those fancy bullshit drinks with all the sugar in them,” Kurogane ordered.  “Just get me an au lait, but not regular milk, it—”  
  
“It makes you yak,” Fuuma said over him.  “I know.  I even put cinnamon in it.”  
  
Kurogane was quiet for a minute as he put the pieces together.  “Fuck me, what was Shizuka doing there?”  
  
“Getting coffee, obviously.  The better question is what he’s going to do when he gets to the apartment.”  
  
“He’s coming over?”  
  
“On his way right now, with the new guy.  Well, if they can peel themselves off each other long enough to get in the car, anyway.  He says he wants to introduce you guys.”  
  
Kurogane sighed heavily.  “Great.”  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“S’fine.  I should probably put on some pants.”  
  
“Probably,” Fuuma grinned.  “I’m here, I just pulled in, so crack the door open for me.  My hands are gonna be full of coffee.”  
  
“Yeah, got it.  Pants, pants, ugh, we gotta have a major laundry day here.”  
  
“Hanging up now, boss.”  
  
Fuuma had barely handed the coffee over to Kurogane—who had managed to locate something semi-clean—before there was a knock on the half-open door.  
  
“Hey,” Kurogane called out.  He leaned back against the kitchen counter and seemed like he didn’t give a fuck about anything when Shizuka and Kimihiro walked in.  Fuuma knew better.  He was flipping a guitar pick around between his fingers.  He never did that when he _actually_ didn’t give a fuck.  
  
“This is fine,” Shizuka said, and flicked the little cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup with such pinpoint accuracy that he knocked the guitar pick out of Kurogane’s hand.  “Don’t get all nervous on me.  Kurogane, this is Kimihiro.”  
  
“Yeah, hi, this isn’t terribly awkward at all, it’s nice to meet you,” Kimihiro said, shaking hands with him.  “Oh my god, you’re huge, please do not hit me.”  
  
“I wasn't going to," Kurogane grinned, actually seeming to relax for some reason.  “And it's not that awkward.  I mean, unless you want it to be or something.  I’m glad to meet you.  See for myself what turned this guy into a sappy grinning moron.  He practically uses full sentences when he talks about you, it’s crazy.”  
  
Shizuka didn’t change expression in the slightest, but his cheeks got a little flushed.  “Yeah, well, you notice he’s gorgeous.”  He shrugged.  “Couldn’t help myself.”  
  
“And I . . . have lost my mind,” Kimihiro sighed.  “I have no idea what I see in this guy.”  
  
Kurogane raised his eyebrows.  “You don’t?”  
  
“Just look at him,” Kimihiro said dramatically, gesturing at the man in question, who was standing there looking faintly amused.  “He’s rude and lazy and terrible at communication, and he has a terrible sense of humour and he leaves his disgusting dirty socks all over the house—”  
  
“Tch.  I know.”  
  
“So clearly I have lost my mind.”  
  
That made Kurogane scowl at him.  “You could always just give him back if you don’t want him.”  
  
Fuuma was just being casually observant, making no noise and trying to will himself into nonexistence, wondering if he should have left the room, at least . . . Now he wondered if he should probably stay in case somebody started throwing punches.  Because Kurogane looked _pissed_ , and Kimihiro was going beet red and Shizuka . . .  
  
Oh.  Ouch.  He just looked like somebody had punched him already.  
  
“I— I am really sorry,” Kimihiro said, covering his mouth with one hand, his eyes starting to well up with tears as he looked at Kurogane.  “It wasn’t— I wasn’t trying to— Guitar World is my first management job, and I’ve been really stressed out and nervous, and Shizuka was really helpful, and we just started talking all the time and . . . I never meant for things to happen like they did.  I wasn’t trying to take him away from anybody.  I, I know I’m not— special,” he said bitterly, looking down at the floor.  “You must be so angry, because I’m not _anything_ special, and I don’t know why—”  
  
Shizuka stepped forward and put a hand on the small of Kimihiro’s back to steady him.  “Don’t do that,” he said softly, pressing a kiss into his hair.  “Kurogane.  I know we talked on the phone, but I had something to say in person.  Let’s go out on the balcony for a second.”  
  
Kurogane just nodded and led the way, leaving Kimihiro and Fuuma in the kitchen trying not to look at each other and trying to pretend this was not the most miserable morning they’d ever had.  Fuuma suddenly remembered that he was holding coffee, which was getting lukewarm and gross.  Kimihiros was sitting on the counter.  
  
“Um.  Do you want to stick your coffee in the microwave for a second?  Mine could use a re-heat.”  
  
“Yes, please,” Kimihiro muttered, his face flushed red with humiliation.  
  
“So this might sound condescending and useless, but I kind of know what it’s like,” Fuuma said cheerfully as he started rounding up cups of half-finished coffee.  At this point, laughing about it was the best way to deal with it.  “I’ve been in love with someone for years, and I met him when he started dating my little sister.”  
  
Kimihiro let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, not really looking at him.  
  
“I mean, I didn’t get as lucky as you did because he won’t have anything to do with me, but the point is: I know how fucking awkward it is to feel like you’re the one who doesn’t belong in the picture.”  
  
“Well, that’s encouraging,” Watanuki muttered.  
  
“No, I don’t mean you actually are!  I think it’s going to be fine.  Me and Kurogane talk a lot, and I know he’s actually genuinely happy for you guys.  He acts like he’s a jerk, but secretly he’s kind of nice.  So I don’t think you’ve got a lot to worry about.”  
  
They both glanced out toward the balcony, just in time to see Shizuka wrap his arms around Kurogane.  The shocking thing for Fuuma was not that Shizuka had the balls to do that where his new boyfriend could see him, but that Kurogane leaned into the other man’s embrace.  In the stunned silence, they managed to catch Shizuka’s muted words.  
  
“I didn’t mean to fall in love before you did.  I don’t want to leave you if you’re not going to be okay.”  
  
“This was always gonna happen someday.  And I am okay,” Kurogane responded, pulling out of his arms and straightening up.  “Totally fine.”  He slid open the balcony door and gestured for Shizuka to come back inside ahead of him.  “I’m better, at least.  Fujitaka wants me to come over for dinner tonight, and believe it or not I think I’m going to,” he added as he came in behind Shizuka and shut the door again.  “And stop gaping like dying fish,” he said to the other two, walking right up to Kimihiro, who flinched.  “Hey, man, I’m happy for you guys.  We’re cool.  Okay?”  He was holding out his hand.  
  
“I, um, are you sure?”  
  
“Very sure.”  
  
Kimihiro shook his hand.  
  
“Yay, everybody’s friends, that’s so nice,” Fuuma said in a chipper voice.  “And now your coffee is hot again, so best day ever!”  He handed them out.  “And don’t worry about Kurogane falling in love, anyway, he’s got the hots for—”  
  
“Shut the fuck up,” Kurogane said, smacking him on the back of the head.  
  
“I would never name any names, but he’s blond and pretty and famous,” Fuuma crowed, running across the room to avoid getting hit again.  
  
Shizuka was giving Kurogane a look of serious concern.  “Dude.  I thought that was like, a one-time thing.  And you guys were really high.  I didn’t know you—”  
  
“Whoa, what?” Fuuma said in shock.  “You and Fai have already hooked up?  And you were high?”  
  
“You’re talking about _Fai_?” Shizuka said, and suddenly started laughing.  
  
“Yeah, dude, who did you think I was . . . Kurogane?”  
  
The guy looked like he was on the verge of a heart attack, his face nearly purple and his hands twitching with the need to strangle someone to death.  “Nobody,” he said viciously.  “We are not talking about anybody at all, and so help me, Shizuka fucking Doumeki, if you ever bring that shit up again I will—”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I know, you’ll fucking kill me,” Shizuka smirked, waving a hand dismissively.  “Anyway, he and I gotta get going, or we’ll both end up being late for work.  When are you coming back, Kurogane?  It’s been busy, we could use you.”  
  
“Ah, I’ve got to call the boss,” Kurogane said.  “Next week, probably.  Might bring this one with me to start talking about going through the training program.”  
  
“You might?” Fuuma said, startled when he realized Kurogane’s jabbing thumb was directed at him.  
  
“Why not?  You got some other work lined up?”  
  
“No,” Fuuma admitted.  “I guess being an electrician’s better than flipping burgers or something.  Sure.”  
  
“Cool,” Shizuka responded.  “See you guys at work, then.”  
  
Kimihiro could be heard to say, as the two of them went out the door, “Have I mentioned that my life _makes no sense_?”  
  
Yeah, wonder what that would feel like, Fuuma thought sardonically as he drained the last of his mocha and wondered if it was acceptable to nap right after coffee.  Laundry didn’t seem that urgent.  


* * *

  
  
( _five years ago_ )  
  
“So not as hard as it looks, right?” Michelle said cheerfully, having just finished showing him how to change the color filter on a spotlight.  “It’s nice to have an extra pair of hands, though, really.  It was just going to be me and Jo running the whole thing, and we would have been so fucked.”  
  
Fuuma wasn’t looking at the light, he was looking much farther down.  He and Michelle were currently standing on the scaffolding behind the wall of the set, playing with a bank of lights that had already been mounted.  Fuuma had joined the crew rather late in the game, and most stuff was already built and put into place.  They had dress rehearsal in a few days.  
  
“Yeah,” he said belatedly.  “Glad to be here.”  
  
The actors had already finished rehearsals for the day, so Kamui was sitting on the edge of the stage with his guitar in his lap, strumming chords and humming while Kotori leaned against him.  He’d occasionally lean over to peck her on the cheek, but he was too focused on his guitar to carry on a conversation, so she seemed happy just to lean against him and listen.  
  
Yeah.  Sounded good to him, too.  He’d showed up here two days ago ostensibly to join the stage crew and with the private purpose of keeping an eye on Kotori.  She’d never had a boyfriend before, so as a big brother he was understandably concerned.  He’d thought the guys on the team would stay off his back, since it was only going to be for three weeks and it wasn’t like he was sewing the costumes or anything.  
  
It was just that he kept forgetting who he was supposed to be keeping an eye on.  
 _  
“—fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes.  May I be converted and see with these eyes.  I cannot tell; I think not: I will not be sworn—”  
  
“Less angry, more introspective, Kamui!” shouted the drama teacher.  
  
The boy turned around quickly, flicking his head to swing messy hair out of his eyes.  “I’m angry because you’re making me do _ Shakespeare _,” he said, his voice clearly carrying to the back of the room, where Fuuma and Kotori had just walked in.  “This is high school, there are four people who are going to be able to follow the dialogue.  Why aren’t we doing Picasso at the Lapin Agile?”  
  
“Somebody got a bug up their ass, I don’t really know,” the drama teacher said, voice weary and dragging.  They’d had this conversation before, obviously.  “If you don’t want to play Benedick, I can find someone else.”  
  
The boy on stage smirked at that, his meaning obvious: _I’d like to see you try _.  Fuuma’s jaw fell loose and his eyes flicked down to make sure the swooping feeling in his stomach hadn’t had any unfortunate effects on him, because holy shit.  Kamui was.  Wow.  Fuuma tried to will his heart to get back to his regularly scheduled beating.  
  
“Just keep going, Kamui, we’ve got a lot to cover today.”  
  
“From the top?”  
  
“No, just pick up where you left off, that’s fine.”  
  
 “Right,” he sighed, and straightened his shoulders.  “I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; but I’ll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool.  One woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace.”  
  
Kamui glanced to the back of the room and winked.  Fuuma’s eyes widened and his heart resumed its effort to beat out of his chest.  He was winking at—  
  
Kotori giggled and blew Kamui a kiss.  Right.  Fuck.  Obviously.  She was standing right next to him and Kamui was winking at his girlfriend.  Oh god his baby sister.  Was dating this guy.  Stop it, Fuuma, just stop staring, just look away.  
  
“Rich she shall be, that’s certain,” Kamui went on, and finished his dialogue.  Monologue.  What the hell had Kotori said it was?  Whatever it was, Fuuma wasn’t even listening to it.  There in jeans and a tshirt on a half-built stage with a script that most of his audience wasn’t going to be able to follow due to the archaic language . . . Somehow he still looked poised, unselfconscious.  He had fucking memorized Shakespeare, and he made it sound good, how was that possible?  
  
He kept telling himself to stop watching and go introduce himself to the stage crew.  But he couldn’t tear his eyes away._  
  
“Hey, Kamui!” someone shouted from across the room, causing the boy in question, his girlfriend, and the boy on the scaffolding all to look in their direction.  “If you’re gonna bring your guitar, quit it with that romantic crap and play something good, huh?”  
  
Kamui’s grin was sly and fierce.  He nudged Kotori off his shoulder to give himself more room to work, and then he started playing.  Ten feet above his head, Fuuma chuckled.  It was good music alright, although he doubted whoever was shouting had a clue what it was.  And Kamui was playing _the shit_ out of it.  He tried to lean over the edge of the wall to get a better look at Kamui’s flying fingers.  
  
He’d been such a good big brother and gone to all of Kotori’s piano recitals when they were kids.  She used to play this.  
  
“What the fuck is that?” the asshole asked.  
  
 _Für Elise . . . Really fast, but it’s Für Elise and he’s amazing  
_  
“Für Elise, fuckwad,” Kamui hollered back.  “It’s Beethoven, not that that probably helps you, moron!”  
  
Kotori giggled and hopped down from the stage to run over to the piano and play with him.  Fuuma watched the two of them laughing at each other as she tried to keep up with him, and kind of wished he’d slip off the scaffolding and bash his brains on the floor.  This was torture.  
  
 _“I will hide me in the arbour!” Kamui finished, and immediately bounded off stage, heading to meet Kotori, who was already skipping forward to meet him.  “Why, ‘tis the fair Beatrice!” he grinned, dropping a light kiss on her.  
  
Kotori giggled and cuddled against him.  “Kamui, this is my brother Fuuma.  Fuuma, isn’t Kamui amazing?”  
  
“Aw, come on, Tori . . .”  
  
Okay, now he was blushing and that just wasn’t fair._  
  
“Come on, Fuuma, I want to show you where we keep the extra filters.  I still have to show you how to use the programming equipment, too.”  
  
Fuuma followed Michelle down and tried to tell himself that he only had to get through another two weeks of this.  In two weeks, the play would be over and he could start pretending that he didn’t know who this guy was that Kotori kept talking about.  Coming here had to be the biggest mistake of his life.  
  
 _“Yeah,” Fuuma said softly, hanging back as they headed to the front and Kamui gave Kotori a hand onto the stage so they could run lines together.  “He’s . . . perfect.”_  


* * *

  
  
After shuffling at his laundry before simply rearranging his shoes, reading a single paragraph on the community college’s home page before finding himself migrating to Pinterest, and scribbling down only three progressive notes for a song he was trying to write . . . Subaru finally gave up on doing anything productive today.  He was hungry, anyway.  
  
The kitchen held no better luck for him.  For one thing, the only food they’d left behind while they toured was dry food like pasta or rice, or canned like soup or tuna.  It all sounded disgusting.  He wanted Mediterranean food.  He’d kill somebody for baba ghanoush and lentils right now.  He shut the pantry door and sighed uselessly.  
  
Then he flopped down on the couch in the living room.  Screw it.  He was watching crappy t.v. for the rest of the day.  His first day home had been upset by Kurogane shoving his brother up against a wall and yelling at him, and his second day home had been ruined by _Kyle_.  His third day was just being ruined by tedium.  
  
The front door burst open to admit someone—it could be Fai but by the noise was probably Subaru’s errant twin, who’d disappeared a while ago.  
  
“Hi,” Subaru said, then frowned.  “What were you doing?”  
  
Kamui was red-faced and dripping with sweat.  “Running,” he gasped.  
  
“Well, god, go cool down and stretch out.”  
  
“Already did,” he said, bent in half and bracing his hands on his thighs.  “Over at the park down the road.  Jogged the rest of the way.”  
  
“Oh,” Subaru said, flipping through a few channels and trying to determine how much he cared if Kamui judged him for watching “Law and Order.”  
  
“So you think I’m a selfish asshole for not falling in love with that childish moron, too, right?”  
  
Startled, it took Subaru a minute to switch gears.  “Uh,” he said, attempting to buy himself a moment.  
  
Kamui had pulled his shirt off and was wiping his face and neck with it, and he was glaring at Subaru like he planned to set him on fire in a minute.  “Everyone seems to think I’m just being a jerk by not falling all over myself for Fuuma, despite the fact that he acts like a second-grader and the fact that _I am not and never have been interested in men_.  So how come you haven’t told me you think I’m an asshole?  I’m your brother, you’re supposed to tell me these things.”  
  
Subaru sighed, but he didn’t try to get out of the conversation.  He’d been waiting for Kamui to bring it up.  He’d expected something more subtle, but he shouldn’t have, really.  Kamui’s defense mode was angry and accusing, even when it didn’t need to be, even with him.  Subaru was just lucky because Kamui defused a lot quicker with him.  
  
“Sit down,” he said mildly.  
  
“No,” Kamui snapped.  “I don’t want to have some kind of heart to heart chat about this.  I’m too pissed off.  I’m gonna shower.”  
  
Subaru sighed again and went back to watching t.v. until Kamui emerged half an hour later in jeans and a tank top, his damp hair curling along his neck.  He threw himself down in a chair and glared at Subaru, who muted the television.  
  
“You’re mad at me because of what happened yesterday with Kyle.”  
  
“Even _Fai_ was angry and you know he never gets mad!  You were just going to stand there and let that sack of crap say— say things to you—” he choked off.  
  
Subaru folded his hands quietly between his knees.  “I know I’ve got problems.  And I know that I should get more upset when people treat me badly.  But unlike you two, I was willing to see if Kyle would clarify what he meant.  Not that I’m not happy you kicked his ass,” he grinned suddenly, “because I am.”  
  
The thwacking noise of Kamui’s fist on Kyle’s face was entirely too pleasant to remember.  Subaru abhorred violence, and somehow this did not bother him at all.  
  
“Good.”  
  
“Kamui?”  
  
“Yeah, what.”  
  
“I think I might try going to therapy for a while.”  
  
“Hunh?”  
  
“I just . . . think I need some help.  I’ve never been very good at thinking well of myself, and I know the lengths I go to, to keep people happy and stay out of their way, I know my boundaries are a little, um.”  
  
“Fucked up?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“That’s Mom and Dad’s fault,” Kamui said, clenching his fists.  “They— they didn’t—”  
  
“Have a clue what to do with me?” Subaru finished for him, with a helpless smile.  
  
Their parents could take responsibility for a lot of their problems.  His dad had been one of those parents who thought his job was done when he brought home the paycheck for their care.  He wasn’t exactly the type of dad who got down on the floor to play with their toys or to open his study door for chats.  Their mom—oh boy.  She was a different story.  Controlling and unreasonable and legitimately terrifying to all of the other mothers of the PTA bunch.  She had very definite ideas about what her child should do, assuming that child was Kamui.  She’d been baffled by Subaru from the first.  He was too sweet and too quiet and too submissive, and he made no sense to her.  So she’d pretty much ignored him.  Like, his entire life.  Living in her house did not necessarily mean speaking to her every day.  
  
With Kamui, it was different.  He was exactly the sort of kid she’d wanted, and she’d planned out his entire life by the time he was three.  He was supposed to do something amazing, although she hadn’t seemed to care whether the magazine cover he ended up on was _Forbes_ or _Entertainment Weekly_.  He was her pride and joy and he was going to marry the prettiest girl in the world and give her ten fat happy grandbabies.  
  
Don’t question that plan.  
  
Ever.  
  
Subaru beckoned at Kamui until he got up from his seat and came over to join him on the sofa, looking puzzled and amused.  “What?”  
  
“We need to talk about something, and you’re probably not going to like it.  But please, Kamui, please try to listen to me and not get upset.”  
  
Kamui raised an eyebrow to point out what a good beginning that was.  Subaru chewed at his lip, then decided to hell with it, because they were adults now and they were on their own and they were allowed to just be happy for once, not let anything hang over their heads and screw it all up anymore, not Mom or Seishirou or anything else.  
  
“I want to talk about what you were like when you were a kid.”  
  
Kamui crossed his arms over his chest and leaned away from him.  “Why?”  
  
“I just . . . think it’s important.”  
  
“Fuck.  Fine.”  
  
The look leveled at him said: _do your worst_.  Subaru wasn’t sure Kamui would even be able to hear what he was saying when he was this defensive.  
  
“I don’t think I’m the only one who might need a little help right now, to try to figure myself out a little better.”  
  
“And what the fuck does that mean, exactly?”  
  
“Kamui,” Subaru said softly, trying not to look and sound as wounded as he felt because he wasn’t trying to emotionally manipulate him or anything.  Apparently he wasn’t a good actor, because Kamui shifted uncomfortably and lowered his eyes.  “You know I love you more than anything.  You’re my little brother.”  
  
Subaru was seven minutes older.  This had been important more often than he cared to admit.  
  
“I know that.”  
  
“So don’t treat this like I’m attacking you, please.  I just want to help you.”  
  
“And this means I have to go to therapy and talk about how dumb I was as a kid?”  
  
“It means that you need to start being more honest with yourself, however you can manage to do it,” Subaru said as firmly as he could.  “You are . . . You’re not what I hoped you’d grow up to be.”  
  
Kamui crossed his arms even more tightly and hunched over.  “So fucking sorry to disappoint.  What were you hoping for?” he muttered.  
  
“I hoped you’d be happy,” Subaru whispered, and then he had to stop and wipe at his eyes before the tears could start falling.  “You’re _not_ , and the worst part is that you think you are.”  
  
“I am,” Kamui protested, eyes on the floor.  “Why wouldn’t I be?”  
  
Subaru bit his lip and worried it between his teeth.  “You don’t even remember how badly Mom treated you, do you?”  
  
“She didn’t treat me _badly_ , where are you getting that from?” he said, sitting back up and glaring at him.  “She was hard on me, but so what?  A lot of mothers do that, and it wasn’t like I wasn’t up for it.  I’m an overachiever!”  
  
“Do you remember the first time we watched ‘Aladdin,’ that Disney movie, when we were little?”  
  
“I guess.”  
  
“So you remember saying that you wished you were Princess Jasmine so that Aladdin would take you on carpet rides and you could marry him, because you thought he was handsome?”  
  
“I did _not_!” Kamui snapped.  
  
Subaru found himself sighing again.  This was the hardest conversation he could ever imagine having in his life, harder even than getting grilled by the police about Seishirou.  If there was anything that could ever come between him and Kamui, it would probably be this.  
  
 _Please please please do not fuck this up_  
  
“Yeah, you did.  And then when they made us draw a picture in class of what we wanted to be when we grew up, I cut pictures out of magazines and made myself the world’s most stylish professor.  You drew a picture of yourself wearing a dress.  You said you wanted to get married and be a wife.”  
  
“What the— Subaru, seriously?  I did not.  I have zero recollection of doing that.”  
  
“I kept it,” Subaru muttered, and wiped at his eyes again.  “You got in trouble and they called Mom and Dad in for a conference.  I kept thinking I’d show it to you later to remind you what you really wanted, after they got finished telling you that you couldn’t have it.   But it . . . There never seemed like a good time to give it back to you.  And I had to leave it behind when we left, because it was boxed up in the garage.”  
  
They had taken what they could cram into the extremely dodgy car that Fuuma had helped them procure.  The stuff in the garage had been left behind so that Mom wouldn’t catch them out there and ask them what they were doing.  They didn’t want anyone to try to stop them, so they had kept their leaving a secret until the minute they walked out the door.  Mom had been home.  Subaru would have thought you’d have to shoot three rounds into her gut to put that expression on her face, watching the last seventeen years of her life walk out the door with a middle finger raised high.  
 _  
“If  you’re not going to lift a fucking finger to help your kid, then I guess it’s up to me,” Kamui snarled.  “I’m not waiting for my brother to get raped before I start listening. Fuck all of you.”_  
  
Subaru had sort of hoped that getting away from Mom would help.  Seemed that the damage had been too traumatic for that.  
  
“Kamui, you were so much happier before that.  Our babysitter was teaching you how to sew, and the two of you would make cupcakes because you got such a kick out of decorating them . . . And everything was fine until the bullies at school started getting to you.”  
  
Subaru had been a lot more clever about hiding it.  There was a girl in their class who’d invite him over all the time and it was only there that the fashion magazines and giggling over cute boys came out.  Kamui wasn’t good about hiding it.  He’d been too obliviously happy about his Strawberry Shortcake notebook and the crocheted scarf he was working on during breaks.  
  
“I know that nobody beat you up, but they were just not, you know, friendly.  They . . . ”  
  
“Tripped me,” Kamui said in a dull voice.  “Stole my stuff and spit in my food and one kid threw a rock at me during recess once.  I remember that.”  
  
“That’s when the teacher had a conference with Mom and Dad.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“And that’s when Mom banned Disney from our house and grounded you from all t.v. for a month, and she signed you up for karate and guitar lessons.  You always tell everyone we did everything together, even guitar lessons . . . But you were just teaching your lessons to me at first, until Mom decided if I was going to learn I should learn from a professional.  Remember?”  
  
“Yeah, of course.  I mean, I didn’t forget any of this stuff.  I just never thought it had anything to do with, you know, that.”  
  
“You knew,” Subaru said gently.  “You—you started acting different.  You said you didn’t like our babysitter anymore and made Mom get us a different one.  You started trying to like the same things those kids who bullied you did.”  
  
“So what, Subaru?  I mean, really, so fucking what?  I was kind of girly when we were kids and then I learned how to kick people in the face and stop doing shit that made Mom worry that I was gender-confused.  Moral of the story, you have to grow the fuck up sometime.”  
  
Subaru kind of wanted to fly to Tampa right now.  So he could punch Dad in the face.  Not Mom, she was beyond reasoning with.  But Dad was the one who just sat there and let her do whatever she wanted and let her make Kamui into whatever she wanted and maybe Subaru didn’t really care that he personally got ignored, but if they’d ever gave a fuck about him then things would have been more balanced and Kamui would have felt more free to just screw up sometimes. And maybe Dad could have stopped her from doing this. From making Kamui think that all this was just part of growing up.  Dad could have said something, if he’d wanted to.  Dad could have said the one thing Subaru always wanted to say, tried to say: _leave him alone_.  
  
Nobody ever listened to Subaru.  Nobody but his twin.  
  
“Kamui . . .”  He took a deep breath.  “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, be whatever you want.  _That’s_ what growing up is, just accepting yourself for who you are and making a life for yourself instead of running away from it.  I don’t care if Mom hates it.  I don’t care about Mom at all.  If what you always wanted was to be somebody’s wife and crochet for a hobby, then _do it._   Why should you care if people call you a girl?  What do you care about what anybody thinks?”  
  
“I don’t,” he snapped.  His face started to crumple, so he drew his knees up, hugging his legs and hiding his face.  “I don’t care, right?  I never— but come on, just because I was stupid when I was a little kid doesn’t mean I still want—  are you trying to say that you think I _am_ gay?”  
  
“I didn’t say that,” Subaru said gently, and then the misery in Kamui’s posture was too much, so he scooted forward and put his arms around Kamui’s shoulders, resting his head in the crook of Kamui’s neck.  “I just want you to learn how to separate what Mom said you should want, from what you actually want.  I think it’s the stupidest idea in the world that you have to be gay or straight or male or female just to like things and have hobbies.  It’s not fair and it’s pathetic.  I don’t let anybody tell me what I’m allowed to do or like just because I like dick.  So fuck them.  I don’t want you to have to worry about what kind of label they’re going to slap on it.  I just want you to do what makes you happy.”  
  
“I don’t really . . . I mean, you notice we’re getting kind of famous?” Kamui muttered, grinding his forehead against his knees.  “I don’t really get that option.”  
  
“Then quit,” Subaru said brutally.  “I’ll quit, too, I don’t care.  I mean, I do, but this is more important to me.  _You_ are more important to me.”  
  
“I don’t want to quit.”  
  
“Good, because you don’t need to.  Like this would be the first time a rock star did something weird?” Subaru teased.  “You could play a show totally in drag and I doubt anybody would bat an eye at this point.”  
  
“Yes they would.”  
  
“They’d get over it.”  
  
“I don’t want to dress in drag, Subaru.”  
  
“Okay.  Do you have the first clue what you want?”  
  
“No,” he choked.  
  
Subaru tightened his embrace.  “That’s fine.  We’ll figure it out.  Okay?  Can we try to do that?”  
  
Kamui sighed shakily.  “I liked trying to pretend I don’t remember anything before we moved to Chicago.  I would be fine with that.  I kinda hate you right now.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Subaru said.  “Actually, I’m not.  If it means you wind up happier, then I’m okay if you hate me.”  
  
Kamui shifted himself free of Subaru’s arms.  “You wouldn’t be okay with that at all, you idiot,” he mumbled, and turned to give Subaru an embrace in return.  “I’ll think about it.”  
  
“Okay!”  
  
“Don’t sound so damn happy!” he scolded.  “I said I’d think about it, not that I’d do it!”  
  
“Thinking is good,” Subaru grinned.  “I’m okay with thinking.”  
  
“And don’t think this means— means _anything_ ,” he snarled.  “About _Fuuma_.  Because I might go on some fucking journey of self-discovery and find out that I always wanted to be a pretty, pretty princess and maybe I’ll start sewing myself dresses, who the fuck knows, maybe I’ll even decide I really am bisexual or something . . . But at the end of the day, Fuuma is still an asshole.  And I still hate him.”  
  
Subaru probably shouldn’t push it this far.  He did it anyway.  After all, he hadn’t been the one who’d thought of Fuuma or brought him up.  “Nobody ever said you had to fall in love with the guy, Kamui.  But he has been an amazing friend, to both of us, and he deserves your gratitude.  If he wasn’t him then you’d acknowledge it.  But he’s a man, who’s in love with you, and that’s a huge threat to who you got told you were _supposed to be_ , so you treat him horribly.  He scares you.”  
  
“I am not _scared_ of that _moron_!”  
  
“Good.  Then you won’t be afraid to thank him for keeping an eye on Seishirou for us, and for moving to Chicago to help the band get started, and for how hard he’s worked the last couple of years to make us successful, and—”  
  
“Okay, I get it, I get it.  What do you want me to do, help him find a job?  I don’t even have one of those.”  
  
“You could be his friend,” Subaru said softly.  “I think the poor bastard could live forever if you’d just smile at him for once.”  
  
“Hah.  That would just encourage him.”  
  
“You really think he needs the encouragement?” Subaru asked wryly.  “Come on, that’s enough horrible emotional talk for one day.  I’m exhausted.  Let’s go grocery shopping and make dinner.  I’m hungry.”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
“We’ll see if they sell aprons.  You should have a pink apron with hearts all over—”  
  
“Fuck you!” Kamui screeched, chasing him down the hallway.  Subaru ran, laughing, and felt like something was shifting, like somehow they were being set free.  They’d both been haunted by shadows long enough.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER CONTENT WARNING
> 
> There is an interrupted sexual assault during this chapter. Very little happens to the victim physically, but you may find the situation or language to be triggering. Read at your discretion, and take care of yourself.
> 
> Also. Oh my god, you guys. OH MY GOD. I cannot believe I am writing this story again?

_Every single night ends up the same_

_I don’t say much at all but I bring up your name_

_(Over and over and over)_

 

Fuuma had declined Kurogane’s (somewhat desperate) invitation to come along to dinner. Fujitaka would welcome another lost soul as easily as he’d accepted Kurogane and Syaoran, and it would be good for the guy to be around a family like that. Plus, if Fuuma was there, the rest of the family couldn’t gang up on Kurogane to tell him how much they’d missed having him around and be all full of caring and feelings and things.

But Fuuma declared that he wanted to start his laundry and put his room together before he slept. Doumeki and Kurogane had kept separate bedrooms while they’d lived here, and then Doumeki had left the furniture behind when he’d moved out. He said he didn’t need it anymore, and that was how Doumeki was: he didn’t much care for possessions in general and he knew eventually there would be someone who would need it more than he did. If he’d happened to run into that person before Kurogane did, he would have just quietly let himself in and taken it. Fuuma didn’t have much, but thanks to Doumeki he could get by.

So it looked like Kurogane was on his own. He told himself that this was a good thing; he wanted to be back with the family, so much it hurt. But it had been a long time since he’d just hung out all night like he belonged there, and it was daunting to think about the hugs and probably tears he’d have to endure. The prodigal son returns.

He tried to avoid getting ready for so long that he actually did lose track of time and realized he was late. He got up and shoved his feet into a pair of shoes and grabbed his keys, bellowing down the hall at Fuuma that he’d be back later and call if he needed the car for anything.

Then somebody knocked on the door.

Weird. Not that many people knew where he lived, still fewer knew that he was back from the tour. Maybe Doumeki had forgotten to tell one of his friends that he’d moved or something.

He opened the door and his breath blew out of him like he’d been punched in the gut.

“Okaasan,” he said in shock.

Her blond hair was limp with the heat but still always so carefully styled. She was wearing a business suit, she must have come here straight from work— it was rare that she was anywhere else.

“Don’t— don’t call me that,” she said sharply.

He hadn’t seen her. Not in a long time. Only once since the funeral. He’d called her a couple of times, when necessary, but not seen her. He was shocked by how old she looked.

 

“ _Okaasan! Isn’t that cute? The adoption just went through last week, and now of course our own little one is due so soon—the house is just filling up!”_

_Kurogane stood silently in the aisle of the grocery store, trying to become invisible. He still felt shy around his new mother. His eyes were drawn to her big belly and the way she stroked her hand over it. She said there was a baby in there, that he’d once been inside his real mother like that. He didn’t remember his real mother very well anymore, but he had her picture and he remembered that he called her Okaasan._

“ _You’re going to be run ragged, poor thing, two boys now, I didn’t know you were going through with the adoption after you found out you were expecting after all.”_

“ _Oh, no, it’s going to be wonderful. Kurogane is only six, but he’s so responsible already, he’s such a good boy, he’ll be such a help with the baby. And I hope when Syaoran is born he’ll teach him to call me Okaasan too, I think it’s so darling!”_

 

“Look at you,” she said, in a tone of frozen politeness. She was looking at his tattooed arms. He’d forgotten she hadn’t ever seen the sleeves. She had been . . . less than thrilled about the back piece and said he was turning into a bad influence and if Syaoran ended up with a tattoo she was going to murder him. Kurogane suddenly wished the design was something vulgar and disgusting enough to make her tuck tail and run. God, he had to get her out of here before she ran into Fuuma . . .

“What do you want, Lydia?”

“More manners, to start. I raised you better than that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered. His heart was pounding, it was pathetic that this skinny blond woman a full foot shorter than him could reduce him to a terrified wreck, but it wasn’t her that he was afraid of exactly, it was only what she might say that was tying his stomach in a tight knot of anxiety. “Do you want to come inside?”

“Is your . . . friend home?” she asked, her voice chilly and always so fucking polite and god how he hated her voice—

“If by friend you mean my boyfriend, then no. We broke up. He moved out. There is a guy living here, but I’m not dating him. He’s one of my coworkers who was on tour with us.”

Her face had been locked in that frozen and distant expression that had earned her the nickname “Ice Queen” at work, only spoken behind her back but which she was probably proud of. Now it twisted, and was oddly pretty that way. Barely restrained anger and grief lurked just under the surface of her, but it made her look more alive, less plastic.

“And, _that_ is what I came to say,” she said, her voice still somehow sounding polite, but it was trembling on the edge of control. “I cannot believe you went back on tour, I cannot believe you— you said that you were quitting, that you’d never go back, you said you—” She broke off her sentence with a ragged noise and her eyes were full of tears.

Kurogane felt a queer burning sensation creeping over his head, his face, down his shoulders. The knot of his stomach was doing flips and threatening to revolt. His tongue felt thick and he didn’t know if he was turning red, but it felt like a cold fire was spreading over him.

“I wasn’t playing,” he mumbled. “I’m not in the band. They— it was Sakura, she asked me to help— How did you hear about it?”

“Hear about it? I was out having drinks with some people from work and the concert was on television! You were on the television with your stupid fucking guitar, so do not lie to me and tell me you’re not playing, and god knows how I managed to recover and not lose the contract I was trying to secure that night . . .”

“You probably saw some pre-concert footage,” Kurogane said, trying so desperately hard to speak and not whisper. “I was just tuning it. It wasn’t my guitar. I'm the guitar tech. It was probably Kamui’s. Kamui is the guitarist, Okaasan, not me.”

“I said don’t call me that!” she shrieked. “How dare you? How could you possibly think it was okay for you to just go back out there and do that again, like it didn’t even matter anymore? You said you quit! You are not allowed to just forgive yourself and-and-and move on—” she gasped, hunching over and putting a hand over her mouth, leaning on the doorframe and sobbing. “I have to live without my baby, without my precious baby, and I won’t let you forget about him.”

She really thought he could forget?

His fist clenched into his shirt, over his heart, and he wished he could pull the shirt off and show her Syaoran’s name but it would only make her hate him more. He should feel angry right now, he should be downright enraged that she’d accuse him of forgetting, but instead it just made him feel tired and sick. She didn’t know him. Never had, never would. He’d desperately wanted her to, once upon a time. But this shattered limp-haired woman clinging to his doorway with manicured nails like she meant to dig them into Kurogane himself and shred him apart . . . He wasn’t sure he wanted anything from this woman.

“Come inside,” he said quietly. “Come sit down, I’ll get you some tissues.” He reached out to help her stand up, but his fingers barely brushed the suit she spent too much money on.

“Don’t touch me!” she shrieked at him, yanking herself away. “Don’t ever! I don't even know you anymore! You are selfish, you are ungrateful, you are disrespectful—you are not my son!”

“I know,” he muttered, drawing his hands away and putting them in his pockets because he didn’t know what else to do with them. “I’m just the babysitter.”

 

“ _Okaasan,” Kurogane said patiently._

_He looked like a little sparrow when he tilted his head like that, his hair unkempt and falling into his bright eyes. “Kapsawn!”_

“ _Okaasan.”_

“ _Kaasan!”_

“ _That’s pretty good,” Kurogane said happily. “Come on, let’s wash our hands for dinner.”_

_He lifted Syaoran up to reach the sink, but the little boy wriggled around in his arms to get a hug instead of reaching his hands forward to wash them. He might look like a curious sparrow when he was trying to learn something, but his way of tagging along right at Kurogane’s heels had already earned him the designation of “puppy” and he couldn’t change it now. Kurogane allowed the hug. Syaoran was the only one who ever hugged him, and it was nice even though he was sticky and gross._

“ _You’re such a good big brother,” Lydia said, appearing in the doorway and smiling warmly at them. “I knew it was the right decision to bring you home with us. You boys love each other very much, don’t you?”_

“ _Hai, Kaasan,” Syaoran chirruped._

_Lydia laughed and plucked him out of Kurogane’s arms to kiss each of his fat little cheeks. “That’s my precious boy. Come on, dinner’s ready.”_

 

“How dare you,” she hissed at him. Then she pulled herself up and straightened herself, trying to regain her dignity. “I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want to look at your face. You were supposed to keep him safe, and you— You’re not anything now. Goodbye.”

Kurogane didn’t reply. There was nothing to say. He watched her walk down the sidewalk toward her car, and then he suddenly stiffened up with shock. Touya and Yukito were pulling in right next to her. Touya jumped out of the car just as Lydia was unlocking her own car’s door.

“Oh!” she said in surprise, staring at him like a deer in the headlights.

Touya’s eyes cut into her like he meant to actually cut her. “You. Why are you here?”

“I was just leaving,” she blurted out, and slammed her door shut and pealed out of the parking lot like she was escaping a fire.

“And good riddance, you bitch!” Touya shouted after her, earning a pinch on the arm from Yukito. Then he caught sight of Kurogane on the doorstep of his apartment, and his eyes went wide and he actually broke into a run, pelting down the sidewalk to get to him. Kurogane felt really strange. Sort of . . . Didn’t feel anything, right then. Numb, that was the word. He was numb.

“Hey,” Touya said quietly, jogging to a stop and gripping him by the arm. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Kurogane shrugged. “I’m good.”

“Was that your mom?” Fuuma suddenly appeared at his elbow, scowling.

“Y-yeah.”

“What did she want?” Touya bit out.

“Nothing,” Kurogane muttered.

“What did she say to you?” Yukito asked more gently.

“I told you guys, nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“She was, uh, not nice,” Fuuma volunteered.

“Shut the fuck up, Fuuma.”

“What did she say to him?”

Fuuma faced the twin glowers that Touya and Kurogane were giving him, and licked his lips. “Sorry, bro, but I gotta,” he said nervously to Kurogane, and repeated some of Lydia’s choicer comments. Touya actually whirled around like he meant to chase after her car, and Yukito fisted a hand into his shirt and restrained him.

“I am. Going. To kill her.” Touya took a few heaving breaths, and visibly calmed himself down. “Come on. You were late, so Yuki and I thought you were trying to get out of it and we came to pick you up. This just fucking takes the cake, seriously. I’m taking you _home_ , Kurogane.”

“Okay,” Kurogane said dully.

He got into Touya’s car without argument, and they spent the ride in utter silence. Touya’s seething fury was caged up behind a scowl, and his driving was rather more aggressive than normal. Yukito’s lips were pinched and he kept glancing into the rearview mirror to try to catch Kurogane’s eye. Kurogane was still numb, so he just looked out the window and avoided Yukito’s gaze.

The three of them pulled up in front of Fujitaka’s house, and Kurogane didn’t want to go in. He didn’t want to deal with this. In a minute, this was going to start hurting really, really badly, he could feel it building up and he wanted to go back to his apartment and hide—actually, he suddenly wanted with crashing lust to go take back his ex-boyfriend so Doumeki could fuck him too hard to think straight.

Instead, he got out of the car, and Touya opened the door and let him and Yukito inside ahead of him, and Fujitaka was stepping out of the kitchen with an oven mitt on his hand and a happy grin lighting his face—which immediately dropped away when he saw them.

“What happened?”

Touya was too angry to talk, so Yukito answered. “Lydia showed up. She was, uh, I don’t think she’ll be back.”

Fujitaka looked back and forth between Kurogane and Touya, and then he took a deep breath. “The food’s just about ready,” he said. “Let’s eat while it’s hot, okay? Let’s not talk about anything unpleasant on an empty stomach. I want to hear about this later.”

He put an arm around Kurogane and escorted him into the kitchen. “I’m glad you’re home,” he said quietly. “It’s been too quiet without my boys. Can you get some silverware? It’s salad and shepherd’s pie, so just forks should be fine.”

“Okay.”

“Yukito, would you get Sakura? She’s in her room.”

“Yes, sir,” Yukito said with too much cheer.

“Touya, son . . . Take five. Join us at the table when you’re ready.”

“Yes, sir,” Touya said with nothing like cheer, and walked through the kitchen out onto the back patio, slamming the door behind him.

Fujitaka still kept the silverware in the same drawer as always, and home hadn’t changed in the least, and that was exactly what he’d needed even though he hadn’t known it, and suddenly Kurogane was leaning over the counter with a handful of forks and choking on tears. Fujitaka had been tossing the salad, but he put down the salad tongs immediately and stood beside him, a warm hand on his back.

“Shhh,” he soothed. “It’s all right, you’re home now, you’re all right.”

“I thought—I thought I was starting to figure out—who I am without him— but she just— I know I shouldn’t even listen— I’m sorry, fuck, sorry, just let me—” he wiped at his eyes and tried to turn away, but Fujitaka was grabbing onto him.

“No,” he said firmly. “Don’t apologize, Kurogane. Guys, go ahead and start eating, we’ll be along.”

He guided Kurogane into the living room and sat down on the couch and pulled Kurogane into his arms as if he was a child instead of the intimidatingly large twenty-seven-year-old he actually was. Kurogane had fallen apart on Fujitaka a few times before, but not in years. His arms were still the same.

“I’ve got you, kiddo,” he was saying. “It’s all right.”

Kurogane hid his face in Fujitaka’s embrace and tried to breathe. “I missed you, D-dad.”

It wasn’t official, they’d never been able to make it so. But Kurogane had barely spoken to his adoptive father since his parents had divorced when he was fifteen, and he’d had Fujitaka ever since. He had tried so desperately to get custody of Kurogane and take him away from Lydia when he was in high school and nobody had been more disappointed than Fujitaka that he couldn’t make it happen. Kurogane couldn’t remember when “Dad” had first slipped out of his mouth, but he never remembered there being an awkward moment of surprise. It had been the most natural thing in the world. The word had come harder to him in those bad years, when he’d needed the distance to try to knit himself back together.

But he didn’t want the distance anymore, he wanted to be back in the arms of his family and the only real father he could remember. Maybe he was actually grateful to his mom for shocking him back into wanting so badly to be here.

“I hate your stupid mom.”

Kurogane looked up with surprise and found Sakura limping into the room, almost running despite the obvious pain in her hip, and she threw herself down on the couch and draped herself onto Kurogane’s back.

“Don’t listen to her,” Sakura said fiercely. “I knew Syaoran better than she ever did, and he would have wanted this for you, he would have wanted you to be happy and to be with us, we’re your family . . .”

“I know,” Kurogane said quietly, letting her cling to him. “Thanks.”

When he was composed enough to eat, he scooped Sakura up in his arms and carried her to the table. She squealed and pounded on his shoulder with her fist, but she didn’t really try to get down, just grinned up at him until he put her down by her chair. Touya didn’t say anything when he came in, but the quiet smile he wore when he passed the salad over was enough.

“You guys have so much to catch me up on,” Fujitaka said, beaming around the table at all of them. “Yukito, did you get to see your parents when you guys stopped in Cincinatti?”

“Yes, Touya and I went over and spent the day with them,” Yukito smiled. “We told them you said hello.”

“Good. How are they?”

“They’re fine. My dad is going to retire next year, and they’re saying they’ll probably move back here. They’re definitely happy to hear I’m going back to school.” After numerous interruptions and changes of major, Yukito was going to try to become a nursing assistant. He could become a fully-fledged nurse if he ever retired from music, but it would make ends meet between tours until then.

Sakura had school to finish, too, since she’d apparently decided overnight that she wanted her bachelor’s degree after all, and she chattered about looking for a part-time job. Touya currently had no idea what he wanted to do, but Eriol had made it his business to line up a couple of students for him who wanted piano lessons, for now. The company Kurogane had been working for was happy to take him back, so he was fine.

They talked over their plans and told Fujitaka a few of their more tame stories from the road, and then Fujitaka made coffee to coerce them to stay longer and turned on a baseball game on television while Kurogane and Yukito volunteered to do the dishes.

He was sandwiched between Touya and Yukito on the couch when they all plunked down to yell at the game together, and both of them just casually leaned on him to make sure he knew they were just as happy as Fujitaka and Sakura were. They’d always had their own way of telling Kurogane they loved him, too.

It was good to be home.

 

* * *

 

_(twelve years ago)_

Touya had told Kurogane it was going to be even better if he brought Syaoran with him when he came over, because Sakura would be happy to have a playmate and she might actually leave them alone instead of bothering them the whole time. But Kurogane still felt a little nervous as he approached the house.

He always got nervous in situations like these. He had a lot of responsibilities at home, more so here in the new place without Dad, and he had the puppy to look after, so he didn’t get the chance to go over the other people’s houses very often. He’d always had people he was friendly with at school, but he’d never had much luck once they left the building. Touya had overridden his insistence that he was needed at home, and had told him that if he had to watch Syaoran while their mother was at work, he could do it at Touya’s house.

He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that someone had actually invited him over. Touya had said Yukito came over to hang out most days they didn’t have track practice, and Kurogane should come by sometime. Kurogane wouldn’t have even bothered asking his mother’s permission in the expectation of being rejected, except Syaoran wanted to come over, too.

“Kurogane, what’s wrong?” Syaoran asked, bouncing a little and making Kurogane waver for balance.

“Hey, be careful!” he protested, tightening his hands around Syaoran’s legs. He took the steps onto the porch of the house in one stride.

The door opened before he could ring the bell, and Touya grinned at the sight of Syaoran riding high on Kurogane’s shoulders.

“Hey guys.”

Kurogane looked up into the eaves, too embarrassed to look at Touya directly. “We walked from the bus station and he got tired,” he explained, still clutching Syaoran’s knees to steady him.

“You should have said,” Touya said in surprise. “My dad would have picked you guys up.”

“It wasn’t that far, he’s just being a brat.”

Sakura made her appearance by elbowing her older brother out of the way and saying boisterously, “Hi, welcome to my house!”

“Watch it, monster,” Touya muttered, and then Kurogane and Touya finally looked at each other in real understanding. They were brats, but they were cute and you couldn’t get mad at them. Touya knew how it was.

“Ha, finally taller than you,” Syaoran crowed, grinning down at his new friend while she was looking upward in surprise.

Kurogane laughed and tugged Syaoran down, bending over and letting him slide over Kurogane’s head to land on his feet right in front of Sakura.

“Only when you’re cheating,” she said back, just as triumphantly. They stuck out their tongues at each other, making Touya laugh.

“Come on in,” he said, standing aside. “Yuki’s not here yet, he had to go home and do a couple of chores for his mom before she’d let him come over. My dad’s home, come to the kitchen so you can meet him.”

“O-okay, yeah,” Kurogane said, trying not to show his nerves as he followed Touya in. The kids were chattering away at each other, skipping along at the heels of the teenagers. Great, two puppies now. “Does your dad not work?”

“Course he does. He can kind of set his own hours, though, so he tries to get done early enough to be here when we get home from school. He thinks it’s important for us to have someone at home, I guess. I mean, I’d be fine, but I get it, with Sakura being so young and everything.”

Kurogane tried to wrap his mind around that. He was starting to not be sure whether Touya’s dad was just weird, or if Kurogane’s parents were maybe the weird ones.

“Man, your brother really is short, huh?” Touya said in surprise when Kurogane bent down to pull the two of them apart so they’d quit elbowing each other.

“Hah, yeah, he takes after his dad.”

“Do you not have the same dad? I noticed you didn’t look much alike, but then me and Sakura don’t either.”

Kurogane scrubbed the hair on the back of his head and blew out a breath. Might as well. “We don’t have the same parents at all, I’m adopted.”

“Oh,” Touya said in surprise.

Syaoran whirled around and planted himself between Kurogane and Touya. “It doesn’t matter, because he’s my real brother,” he said challengingly.

“Uh, no one said I wasn’t, Syaoran,” Kurogane mumbled, dropping his face into his hand in terrible embarrassment and trying to shove the little brat aside.

But Touya had crouched down on one knee to meet Syaoran’s eyes. “I got it,” he said. “Thanks for letting me know.”

Syaoran grinned, and then Sakura started yanking on him. “Come on, I want to show you my room!”

The silence between the two of them was awkward, but it only lasted for a couple of seconds before they were in the kitchen. Touya’s father was in there, poking around in the freezer. He stuck his head out when he saw Touya.

“What do you think, chicken and broccoli bake for dinner? I can’t remember if Yukito likes it.”

“Yuki eats anything, Dad, he’s a human garbage disposal,” Touya said fondly, then pulled Kurogane forward. “Dad, this is Kurogane, the new guy I was telling you about on the track team. Kurogane, this is my dad, Fujitaka.”

“Oh, hello,” the man said, smiling pleasantly. “Do you like chicken and broccoli?”

“Huh?”

“Unless you’re not staying for dinner? Sakura assured me that her new friend had gotten permission from his mother, but Sakura has been known to fudge on the truth occasionally.”

“I . . . you’re going to cook?” Kurogane asked in surprise. “Um, I can help. I usually make dinner at home, I don’t want to cause trouble for you or anything . . .” he mumbled, already crossing to the sink to wash his hands. His parents often worked late, and he’d long since been used to preparing whatever his mother set out in the morning before she left. Dad had usually been home in time to eat with them, but now it was mostly just himself and Syaoran at the table.

Okaasan would pitch a fit if she thought Kurogane was just sitting around letting somebody’s dad make dinner for him.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” the man said, waving him away from the sink, causing him to freeze up and wonder what he should do. “The three of us all take turns cooking, and it’s my turn today, that’s all. You’re a guest, Kurogane, you don’t need to help.”

“O-oh. Um. Okay. But. If you—if you want help or anything. Sir.”

“I’ll be fine, it’s nothing fancy. But thank you very much.” The man suddenly grinned at Touya. “Sir. I like him.”

Touya rolled his eyes. “Come on, Kurogane. Let’s go to my room.”

“Let me know if you’ve got any other friends coming, Touya, I want to make sure I’ve got enough!” Fujitaka called out as they headed down the hall deeper into the house.

“It’s just Yuki!” Touya called back.

“What, is he not a friend that’s coming over?” Fujitaka asked sarcastically.

“No! He’s my boyfriend!”

There was a brief moment of silence, and Kurogane’s stomach abruptly flipped over. Touya was either crazy or really brave. Oh god, what was Fujitaka going to do? What if they got in a fight? Kurogane wondered if he should grab Syaoran and get out of here.

“Well, congratulations!” Fujitaka called out after a moment. “I told you!”

“You did not!”

“Dad totally called it!” Sakura bellowed from her room, from which disturbing crashing noises were emanating. What on earth were her and Syaoran doing in there?

Touya’s face was turning red, and he stomped the rest of the way to his room with his eyes on the floor. “Just do not say anything,” he warned Kurogane, whirling around and glaring at him. “Don’t even say anything, my family is so embarrassing.”

Kurogane was still stunned by all of this, but he found himself grinning. “No, they aren’t, they’re great. Your dad is, um. Your dad’s really cool.”

“My dad is a complete dork,” Touya scowled, throwing himself down in a beanbag chair and kicking the edge of another one toward Kurogane. “Let’s just play a video game or something.”

Kurogane started scanning the game cases that Touya had on the shelf. “He really doesn’t mind? About Yukito?”

Touya flushed even more red. “He’s been trying to convince me to ask Yukito out for weeks. He’s so embarrassing.”

Kurogane tossed a couple of games at Touya to choose from. “You’re kidding, right? I’m not even going to tell my parents about me until I move out and live on my own.”

“What do you—oh.”

“You know you’re really lucky, right?”

“Yeah,” Touya admitted, smiling a little at the games in his hands. “I know.”

 

* * *

 

Subaru lit up with practiced ease and dragged deep for his first pull. He could almost trace the nicotine curling into the corners of his body, seeking out anxiety and dampening it. The harsh smoke coiled up in his throat while he held it in his lungs, and he let a bit leak out through his nostrils as he sighed with pleasure.

Yeah, he was majorly addicted.

Yeah, it was a problem.

Yeah, he needed to quit.

“Want one?” he asked Sakura when he noticed that she was watching him smoke quite frankly. He held out his pack, and with a philosophical shrug she selected one between two slender fingers and slid it out. She placed it between her lips and allowed Subaru to light it for her, leaning close over his cupped hands.

“Thanks,” she said once it was burning steady, inhaling and letting out a smoky trail in the wake of her gratitude. “Ugh, why do I let you do this to me?” she said only seconds later. “These are nasty.” She put the cigarette down beside her leg. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, her head tilted back to watch clouds scudding in the wind high overhead. “Why do you smoke, anyway? I honestly wouldn’t have picked you for a smoker.”

Subaru had his cigarette in one hand, but the other hand balled up into a fist, and he found himself staring at his white knuckles while he tried to think of the words he wanted to say. “None of your business” was too harsh for such a good friend, but he desperately hated talking about anything to do with—

“Oh,” Sakura said after a moment, and then her hand came down over his clenched fist and patted it gently. “Never mind, that’s okay.” She didn’t press him at all, but she left her hand atop his.

For a moment, it was all he could do not to burst into tears. People looked at Sakura, at the clothes and hair and tattoo, and thought she must have some kind of attitude problem. It was stupid and awful, because she was one of the most genuinely kind people Subaru had ever met.

“The thing nobody likes to think about,” he said slowly, “not even me, really, is . . . how much I looked up to him. And I— Sakura, I was sixteen, I was so stupidly in love with him, and I just wanted to, I don’t know, impress him or something. If he went outside to smoke, I’d go with him. And now I’m just hooked on the stupid things. Damn cancer sticks,” he said, probably with too much fondness, and he took another deep drag. “I want to quit but kind of don’t want to at the same time . . .”

He turned his head away from her to blow out the smoke, telling himself he wasn’t just trying to hide his face. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. He regretted that last thing he’d said. He hated, hated talking about this. Not even Kamui really seemed to understand, most of the time. How you could love someone so much and still be so frightened and sickened by them. It shouldn’t be possible. The man was in jail and Subaru had testified to put him there. And still he kept holding on to stupid, small things. As if they mattered anymore.

“Things were still good back then,” Sakura said quietly, eyes still on the sky. “At first, it was good, and you can’t help but remember that. I apologize if I’m being too opinionated, but I think you might not be able to quit until you find something else to fill the hole he left in you.”

Maybe it was arrogance on his part to think that just because she hadn’t lived the same life that she wouldn’t be able to understand him. Her hand suddenly slid away from his, brushing over his side and around his back, pulling him into a light embrace. It was hot and sticky weather and the heat of another person’s body was not exactly nice when you were sitting outside, but he leaned into her all the same.

“It’s funny,” he said suddenly, tamping out his cigarette on the ground. “We spent a lot of time with each other the last couple of years, all of us, I mean. Writing, recording, and then going on tour. But it seems like we only started really getting to know each other this past summer.”

“Yeah. But then, all of us have some pretty deep things behind us. Or that we’re still carrying around. It’s not the kind of stuff you talk about with your coworkers. It’s the kind of stuff you talk about with your friends.”

Subaru tightened the hug between them, too grateful to speak. He was a nice person, and he knew it. He was friendly to everyone he met. But as far as real, true friendship went . . . He was less lucky in that area. But now he had the band, and he wasn’t afraid anymore that they’d be taken away from him. He was making real, actual plans with his life now—including the fall classes that Sakura had been helping him sign up for before they came here today.

“My dad’s going to grill me when I get home,” Sakura sighed. “To find out if we’re dating.”

“If who is?”

Sakura giggled. “Us,” she said, pointing at herself and at him. “I saw him giving me the look, in the car on the way here.”

He’d been at Sakura’s house while she talked him through using the online class catalogue and getting a schedule together. Fujitaka, in addition to being a delightful and warm person, had dropped them off at the studio.

Was Fujitaka only being nice to him because he thought Subaru was Sakura’s boyfriend? “That’s . . . awkward.”

“Oh, not really,” she assured him. “He’s just sort of desperate for me to start dating someone, I can tell.”

“Um, you and I are both _super_ gay . . . Aren’t we?”

She blushed. “Yeah.”

“Does your dad not know that?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to say, ‘Hey Dad, my gay friend Subaru is coming over’!” she said, rolling her eyes.

“I meant, about you?”

“Uh, not yet,” she said quietly.

“Would it . . . not be okay?” He shouldn’t make assumptions, but he’d really thought, with the fond way that Yukito talked about Fujitaka, that they must have a pretty good relationship, and had therefore assumed that Fujitaka was accepting of his children’s sexuality. Maybe not?

“It’s not like I think he wouldn’t love me or that he’d get upset or anything,” she said, her face stricken at the very idea. “My dad is the best, really. It just seems like a lot, you know? All three of us?”

“Three?” he said blankly.

“Touya, Kurogane, and me,” she enumerated. “I know this is a silly thought, but it seems like too much to ask. At some point, he might like to have a kid who’s just nice and normal and straight or something.”

“Kurogane is . . .?”

“Totally, one hundred percent homosexual,” Sakura said.

“No, I knew that, he keeps staring at Fai’s ass every time Fai isn’t looking, I’ve never seen anything as dumb as the two of them staring at each other and thinking the other one isn’t interested. No, I just meant, how is Kurogane one of your dad’s kids?”

“Really? They are?” Sakura asked, a delighted gleam in her eyes. “Ohmygod, Subaru, we have to get them together. We have to. Anyway, yeah, um, it’s a long story. Short version is my dad is awesome at making scared teenagers with shitty parents feel like they have a place to go, and Kurogane calls him Dad. Oh my god, Subaru, I have to tell Touya. Touya and Yukito will make them go on a double date with them. It’ll be amazing.”

“Fai and Kurogane are adults. Allegedly,” he said dryly. “They can figure it out for themselves.”

“Kurogane is dumb as a box of rocks about dating,” Sakura snorted. “No. They need help. I’ll tell Shizuka if I have to. Shizuka is a sly, sneaky bastard when he wants to be. This is happening.”

Subaru groaned and covered his face with his hands. “What have I done,” he mumbled dramatically.

“Heeeey~” a voice called from a distance. “What are you guys doing, sitting out here?”

They looked up to find Fai and Kamui headed their way. They both stood up and checked their clothes for dirt and cigarette ash. Subaru, knowing that they had a fairly important meeting, had donned the nicest pair of pants and most conservative shirt he owned. His tie was neon green and black checkers, but he was at least trying. Sakura, however, looked like a naughty Catholic schoolgirl. She was wearing white stockings and a short plaid skirt and a white blouse that was held together with over-sized safety pins rather than buttons. Was this what she normally wore to meetings?

Kamui seemed to be actively attempting to prove he didn’t give a shit, wearing jeans and a tank top and an unzipped hoodie with no sleeves. He’d just had some shading done to the tattoo on his arm yesterday, and his skin was still red and irritated. Fai had chosen Subaru’s approach, looking sort of business-casual in slacks and a button-down. And the Converse that Sakura had fixed up for him with Captain America patches. Right. Well, they were musicians and they had an image, right? It wasn’t like the guy didn’t know that.

“Where’s your brother?” Fai asked Sakura as the four of them headed inside the building.

“Already here, I think. He and Yukito had somebody else they wanted to talk to, so they came early.”

“Oh.”

“Hey, wait up!”

It was Kurogane, with Fuuma jogging along behind him. The two of them loped along to catch up to the rest of the group, and Fai blinked at them in surprise.

“What are you doing here?”

“Fuck if I know,” Kurogane snarled. “We got invited to the meeting. Sorry if that’s a problem.” He stalked past Fai, who gaped at his retreating back.

“That—that’s not what I—hey, wait!”

“Yeah, it’s like a storybook romance for sure,” Subaru said to Sakura, rolling his eyes. “They’re just made for each other.”

They all jogged up the stairs to the third floor, not interested in waiting for an elevator nor trying to cram themselves in. Subaru was winded at the top, which was how he knew that he'd been smoking more than he'd been keeping track of. He fretted over that for a moment, then turned his concern on Fuuma instead.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing his arm and holding him back at the top of the staircase while the others moved on ahead. “Please, please, please do not antagonize Kamui today,” he begged. “He . . . Just don’t.”

Fuuma looked at him carefully, and his face was sober. Shit. That meant he'd already noticed. “Is he sick or something? He looks tired. And skinny. Has he lost weight?”

“He’s just having a hard time,” Subaru said cautiously. Kamui wasn’t sleeping well and had been running more than was strictly necessary for exercise, ever since their talk two weeks ago. If he was trying to come to terms with himself on his own, he wasn't doing a very good job of it. “He'll be okay. He's just . . . he needs to be left alone for a while, okay?”

Fuuma clenched his jaw. He opened his mouth, closed it. “Later,” he finally said. Then, “What about you? Are you okay? You don't look so great, either.”

Subaru shrugged and turned his eyes down. He and Fuuma had been friends for a long time, and when they weren't talking about Kamui it was easy to open up with him.

“I just . . . I know I’m probably being selfish, but I really don’t want to talk about Seishirou anymore. I just want to be done talking about Seishirou,” he admitted. “And you know that’s what we’re meeting about. There’s no reason for you and Kurogane to be here otherwise.”

He didn’t want to have this meeting. He’d been having fun at Sakura’s house, getting her help signing up for spring classes and getting to know her father, and he’d much rather be there. He scrubbed sweaty palms against the legs of his jeans.

Fuuma slid an arm around him and hugged him. “It’s not selfish. Hey, maybe you don’t really need to be here. I mean, Kamui and I know everything too, and Fai was at the sentencing with us. We can tell this guy whatever he needs to know.”

“Thanks,” Subaru mumbled, just allowing himself to be supported for a moment.

The phone call had come in yesterday afternoon. The man introduced himself as Fujimoto and said he was their new PR agent and he'd like to meet with them as soon as possible. It was Fai he'd called first, but he'd also called Touya, as if he knew more than he should about their interpersonal relationships. He'd asked for every member of the band and he must have told Touya that he wanted Kurogane and Fuuma to come.

He wanted the scoop about Seishirou, it was obvious. And he wanted all of them on the same page. Subaru wondered briefly if Fujimoto had been told about the circumstances of Kyle's departure, then he shook it off and braced himself.

“Come on. Let's get this over with.”

Fuuma kept a hand on his shoulder. “Fingers crossed, maybe this will be the last time we have to talk about it, huh?”

Subaru didn't think his luck worked that way, but it was nice of Fuuma all the same, so he tried to keep the fatalism to himself.

The unfamiliar man who was standing in the door of Kyle's office must be their new agent. He had a pleasant smile, a nice suit, and soft-looking brown hair.

“Hi,” he said to the two of them as they approached. “Everyone's in the conference room a few doors down. You're the last two, right? This way.”

Subaru started walking at the exact wrong moment, causing him to physically collide with the man as he stepped out of the doorway to lead them down the hall.

“Oops!” the man cried, grabbing onto Subaru's shoulder and letting his own back hit the wall, somehow keeping them both upright. “I am so sorry!”

“No, no, I'm sorry!” Subaru gasped, looking up and into a pair of soft gray eyes. His lungs seemed to stick to his ribs and he found it hard to draw his breath in.

The guy’s hand was still on his shoulder. They were just looking at each other and not moving, which ought to be weird, but he had the prettiest eyes and Subaru was really quite all right with the hand and the just staring because he seemed very nice. He was smiling. Nice eyes and a nice smile and just . . . nice. Oh, god, Subaru was blushing, wasn’t he?

“Sorry!” he suddenly said again, pulling away. His cheeks felt like they'd burst into flame.

“No, that's totally my fault. It's, um, it's nice to meet you, Subaru.”

“How did you know . . . ?”

“Believe it or not, I'm a fan of the Paper Cranes,” he said with that same dazzingly pleasant smile. “I'm Takashi, by the way. Takashi Domoto. Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you for an autograph or anything. I was just talking to Kiyokazu before everybody showed up, and I said I'd show you where the conference room was.”

“You're not our new agent?”

Subaru didn't mean to sound disappointed. He wasn't sure why it came out that way. Fuuma was suspiciously behind them and suspiciously silent. He snuck a glance over his shoulder and found Fuuma smirking so wide it was slightly disturbing.

“Ah, no, I work in the legal department. Kiyokazu is from legal too—well, until recently. Anyway, here you go. I hope you guys have a good meeting.” He poked his head into the room for just long enough to say, “Hey, buddy, I'll see you later tonight. Let me know if you need help with anything else.”

“Yeah, find me a secretary!” came the snappy response.

“You got it, _sir_. Right away.”

Takashi Domoto retreated with a grin and a parting nod to Subaru, who slunk into the room ahead of Fuuma's smirk and hoped with all his soul that Fuuma would magically forget everything he had just witnessed in the hallway.

“Okay, we're all here now,” Fuuma said congenially. “You must be Kiyokazu.”

The man with the ponytail made a horrible face. “Takashi only gets to call me that because he's got photos of me dressed as a Power Ranger when I was six. It's Fujimoto.”

“And that is Fuuma Monou, whom you can just ignore if it's more convenient,” Kurogane drawled. “So what's this meeting all about, anyway?”

Fai frowned at Kurogane. “You can ignore the grump, too,” he said smoothly. “Sorry. I think we're all a little on edge. You didn't mention what the meeting was about, and we've all been . . . stressed, recently.”

Fujimoto's smile was humorless but still somehow genuine. “I know. I'll be clear, so that you can all relax. The point of this meeting is just to introduce myself to you. I'm Fujimoto, and I'm going to be handling your PR from now on.”

He was met with utter silence, but he just nodded at them like he was expecting it.

“I've been with Piffle Records for a long time, but there's no reason you would have ever met me. I work in the legal department. I'm really close to the Okiuras, and I'm privy to a lot of details that most people aren't.”

He looked right at Subaru, who held his gaze squarely. He wasn't afraid, just wrung out, and he had his friends here with him.

“I already know all about that situation. You don't remember, I can see that, but Mr. Domoto and I were in the courtroom with you during Mr. Sakurazuka's sentencing. I helped your lawyer prepare the case. We're not here to talk about that.” He flicked his eyes to Kurogane as well. “I even know what really happened that night. For what it's worth, I think he deserved everything you gave him, so you can relax now.”

Kurogane wore a trace of a smirk as he finally sank back in his seat, arms crossed over his broad chest. Subaru rubbed his fingers against his forehead, chasing away the memory of Seishirou's face after Kurogane was done with him.

“This might be hard for you all to believe, but I really am just here to help. I know it's going to take some time before you trust me, and that's fine. Mr. Okiura gave me this position because he knows how badly this band needs somebody it can trust, and he trusts me.”

Fai was the one who started softening first. Kamui was going to hold Kyle against Fujimoto for a long time, and Subaru could see that on his twin's face. But when Fai's face started to open up, the rest of them started to look less tense. Subaru felt a change in the set of his own shoulders. Fujimoto was looking at each of them in turn, his mouth even and his eye contact direct. He wasn't trying to bullshit them. It felt like maybe they really could trust him.

“Right now, you guys need somebody who understands that looking out for your best interests is in the company's best interests. Kyle mishandled a lot, and there's no denying that. I can promise I'll do better. Not perfect, but better. I've never worked PR before, and I'm sure I'll screw up eventually, but I am going to do my best, okay?”

There was a few shufflings, and then suddenly Touya stretched out his hand over the table. “Okay,” he said. Fujimoto took it, they shook, and that was it.

“Good. My door is open. Kyle's work has been reassigned to other agents, and you're the only band I'm in charge of right now. I'm helping the legal department out whenever I have free time, but you're my top priority as of now. You let me know if you need anything at all.”

There were nods and murmurings. It wasn't trust yet, but it felt okay.

“I'm going back to my office, and anyone who'd like to speak to me is welcome to join me there. Anyone who isn't interested in sticking around—I'm glad to have met you all, and I hope I'll get to know you better in the future. Have a good day.”

Then he looked at Fai, and at Subaru, and at Kamui. “If you have time, I'd like the three of you to come back to the office for a second.”

They frowned at each other, but they followed him. Fujimoto looked back behind them and snorted when he saw the entire rest of the bunch shadowing them.

“Really?”

He was met with a lot of blank faces.

“Okay, fine, then I'll just say this here. Mr. Okiura has asked me to officially tell you that Kyle's opinion as expressed to you the day of his termination is not the opinion held by Piffle Records. Officially. He asked me to apologize on his behalf for the fact that you were subjected to that while in his building. He would like me to assure you that nothing of that nature will happen again and that Kyle's termination is permanent.”

Fai raised an eyebrow.

Fujimoto gave him a wry smile. “See, that's why it's nice to have someone from legal take this job. Unofficially, I never said this, I always thought Kyle was a creep and not exactly human, and I hope him getting fired is gonna wake him up to the fact that he needs therapy. And I certainly didn't say that I watched the security tape of Kamui beating the crap out of him three time and nearly pissed myself laughing. Because I would never say that.”

Kamui's grin was shark-like. “Just like I would never assault anyone, _ever_.” He stuck his hand out to Fujimoto.

Subaru was shocked—he'd thought Kamui would be harder to win over—but he found himself smiling. He looked back at Fuuma and saw that Fuuma was watching Kamui with complete seriousness, frowning even. Something was up.

Fujimoto moved himself in front of Subaru and hesitated, like he wanted to shake his hand as well but wasn't sure if Subaru would be willing.

“You really helped my lawyer put Seishirou in jail?” he asked softly.

Fujimoto nodded. “Takashi and I did everything we could.”

“Thank you,” he muttered, grabbed Fujimoto's hand and squeezed it, then hurried back to the staircase to get out of the building. He felt suffocated, and he hated it. Just two weeks ago he'd finally started feeling free from all of it, and he needed to get out into the sun and just get that feeling back.

Fai followed him out, but he didn't say anything. He just put an arm around his waist and walked Subaru to his car. They'd wait for Kamui, and then they'd go home.

 

* * *

 

_(six months ago)_

Subaru had a bottle of makeup remover and was trying to scrub his face clean. They had to wear a lot to keep the stage lights from making them look washed out, and his skin had still not quite aged out of its oily teenaged phase. He had to work pretty hard to keep his cheeks from breaking out into acne. Kamui, curse him, never seemed to have that problem. But then Kamui had been experimenting with makeup for years, so maybe he was just better at skin care.

The door to the dressing room cracked open with a quiet knock, and he assumed it was Fai coming to check on him. They were supposed to be doing a quick thing with a local newspaper, but they'd had half an hour between the show and the interview and he'd wanted to get himself cleaned up first.

“Yeah, I'm almost done,” he confirmed. “Just a second.”

Someone tall and broad slipped into the room, certainly not Fai, and he caught their shape just in his peripheral, just at the edge of his mirror. He froze, a treated cotton pad pressed to his chin, and his heart simply stopped beating. It couldn't be.

It could be, he reminded himself, it could absolutely be. He'd been getting letters for over a year, and they made it clear that Seishirou knew where he was and what he was doing. The letters were all variations on a theme: Subaru still belonged to him, and he missed what was his. He wanted to see him again.

He couldn't turn around. He couldn't look at him. He didn't want to see his eyes, to know if they still could look at him with that tender expression and soft smile that made him melt. He knew better. He knew he was no one's possession and he knew that Seishirou was— _something_ , maybe not a pedophile but maybe he was, and he was definitely a stalker and definitely unhinged and definitely dangerous—

“Hello, Subaru.”

He closed his eyes. He didn't know there were tears welling up in them until he felt them gather in hot pools against his eyelashes.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered.

“I wanted to see you. I needed to see you. I needed to know if you were okay. You're so thin,” he chided gently.

Subaru opened his eyes, and turned around somehow. He couldn't explain how it could feel like his muscles were all seizing and like he'd been frozen in a block of ice and how he was burning alive in a furnace all at once, nor how any of those sensations allowed him to turn around slowly.

“You can't be here,” he whispered through the lump in his throat. “This is a private room.”

“Are you saying you're not happy to see me?”

In some ways, he was. He was glad to know just how much risk Seishirou was willing to take. He was glad he didn't have to open another letter with nausea turning his stomach over. He was glad that Seishirou seemed okay and he was glad to see his smile again, because he was too stupid to stop loving that handsome smile.

“Oh god,” he whispered, and covered his face with his hands for a moment.

“Baby, are you all right?”

He didn't know why, but that did it. That finally did it. He lifted his face and set his jaw. “I am not your baby,” he said firmly. “I'm not your anything. I was your biology student and you were my mentor, and you crossed a line. I told you when you crossed it. You refused to stop, and so I left. And I am telling you again, now: Stop. Do not come any closer to me. Do not speak to me. I want you to leave and I do not want you to come back, and I do not want any further communication with you. No more letters. Nothing. Leave me alone. Is that clear?”

Seishirou's face was soft, sad, hurt. Subaru wanted to throw up as he crossed the room and came close. “You can't mean that. Please, Subaru, I know what you think you have to say, but I can see the truth in your eyes. You love me. You always did. Subaru, you're still so beautiful, I just need to—”

His hand stroked over Subaru's cheek, and he dipped his head down to kiss him.

“I've missed you so much,” he murmured.

“Please go away,” Subaru whimpered.

And then Seishirou's smug smile was right in front of him, and hands were pinning his wrists to the mirror behind him. “No,” he said. He started kissing Subaru's neck, breathing in deeply as if to smell him. Subaru bucked violently to try to break the grip on his wrists, but Seishirou straddled his knees and ground his hips down just as Subaru bucked his upward. “Mmm,” he groaned with pleasure.

“Stop it!” Subaru shouted, tears coming fast and hot. “Let me go!”

He brought his knee up quickly, hoping to get Seishirou where it counted, but Seishirou just sat himself down on Subaru's legs. He licked at his throat.

“You taste so good,” he murmured.

Subaru tried to head-butt him. Seishirou managed to pin both of his arms with one big hand, and used the other to yank Subaru's head back by the hair, startling a pained yelp out of him.

“Just let me do this,” he begged. “I know you want me to.”

Subaru sobbed.

And then the door crashed against the wall, and there was a terrible roaring noise like a rampaging bear, and then Seishirou's upper body went right over Subaru's head and his face hit the mirror so hard that the glass shattered. He was yanked backward just as forcefully, and then hands were pulling Subaru out of the chair.

He screamed and pushed the hands away, and to his surprise he was let go. He blinked through his tears and saw that it was Fuuma who had gotten hold of him. Fuuma was holding his hands out carefully, showing that he meant no harm, taking his arm again and pulling him toward the door to get him out of the room—

He twisted away, turned to see that Kurogane was trading blows with Seishirou, grabbing onto his clothes every time he tried to make a run for it. He grunted with every punch Seishirou landed, but didn't let up. He finally got a hold of one of Seishirou's arms and twisted it behind him, and pinned Seishirou's back against his chest.

Fuuma was panting, bent over, his hands braced on his legs. “Kamui. Saw the creep in the hallway. Came and got us right away. We. Ran.”

Seishirou slipped loose and immediately went sprawling on the ground, having tripped over Kurogane's hastily-launched kick at his ankles. Fuuma jerked himself upright again and threw himself into the fray, yelling something deranged as he aimed a punch into Seishirou's kidney. He hauled the man upright, getting his arms trapped in the same position Kurogane had done.

“You're going to let them do this to me?” Seishirou called to Subaru. “Don't tell me you didn't want me, you were _hard_ for me, and now you'll let some goons beat me up just for wanting to be with you? You wanted me here!”

Subaru realized with horror that he  _had_ started getting hard when Seishirou had sat on his lap and started licking at the hollow in his throat. At least it had gone away. And he couldn't stop sobbing. So what if his body had done something without his permission? He'd said stop and he'd said go away, and he'd tried—he'd  _tried_ to get away—

Kurogane buried a fist in Seishirou's stomach, and all the air went out of him. He gasped for air, but his ability to speak was gone, and Subaru realized he'd aimed that punch on purpose and that just made him cry more.  Seishirou tried to kick Kurogane, and then Kurogane landed a few punches on his face and took all the fight out of him. He was just sitting still by the time Kamui led the cops into the room at a run. His nose was bleeding and his forehead was bleeding and he was still fighting for air and for some reason _Kurogane_ looked like he was going to start crying.

But it was Kamui that actually did start. Seishirou was handcuffed and taken away, and Fuuma said, “It's finally over,” and that was when Kamui just  _fell_ on Fuuma and let Fuuma hold him in his arms. He wept into Fuuma's chest and Subaru could see his twin shaking like a leaf while Fuuma just kept repeating, “It's over, it's all over,” and petting Kamui's hair.

Subaru wanted to be there with them, but the cops started interrogating him and he had to wait for three hours until they finally left him alone and let him collapse onto Fai. Fai and Kurogane dragged him to the tour bus and both of them sat and kept watch over him while he cried himself to sleep. They were still sitting there, both of them, when he woke up in the morning to find that Kamui had crawled into bed with him and they'd slept the whole night in each other's arms. Fuuma was passed out on the floor right beside them.

Fuuma had been wrong. It wasn't over. There were hearings and interrogations and evidence and lawyers, and it wouldn't really be over for months.

But that morning, Subaru just reached out and squeezed Kurogane's swollen knuckles, trying to thank him even though he couldn't find the words to speak, then buried his face in Kamui's shoulder and went back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Fai went back to Fujimoto's office the day after their big meeting. Despite what the man had said, Fai didn't simply take him at his word and show up at his door unannounced. He arranged a good time with him before ever leaving the meeting.

“Still no office assistant, I see,” he said as he came in. There was a second desk in this office, there always had been, and it tended to be covered in random crap since nobody was using it to work from. It was completely cleaned off, now.

Fujimoto shrugged from his own desk. “I'm notoriously hard to please. Sayaka—er, Mrs. Okiura—has been vetting candidates for me so I can actually get some work done. Have a seat. You want some coffee?”

“No, thanks.”

Fai had better drugs. He winced even as the thought went through his mind, and tried to cover it by reaching down to fiddle with a shoelace before seating himself. It was time for him to get a grip on himself, _past_ time. He'd just had a fucking _casual thought_ about his own cocaine addiction—

Yes, he thought to himself carefully. It was addiction now. And that meant he had to stop. Now.

“What can I do for you, Fai?” Fujimoto asked when he was silent for too long.

“I'm not even sure,” Fai said pleasantly. He pushed everything from his mind so he could focus. He was good at that. “I just know that our image took a few hits over the summer, and I know that the possibility exists of us sinking into obscurity now that we're off the tour. You've worked here for a long time, and I thought maybe you. I don't know. Might have a few suggestions. Things we could do to make sure our reputation is solid and we don't get forgotten before the next album.”

“You know that there is a marketing department for this studio who is probably finalizing a strategy for that right now,” Fujimoto answered flatly. “And that it's not my job.”

Fai shrugged, and grinned charmingly. “Well, yeah, but I like you better.”

“I'm not making an enemy of my colleagues,” Fujimoto smirked. “So I'm not doing this. And I definitely didn't tell you to start a video blog. And I absolutely will not sit here and go over which topics are safe and which topics aren't.”

“You would never do that,” Fai said blandly. “I came up with that idea all by myself. That video camera that I'm gonna have to buy is just something my mom had lying in the hallway closet for years, I'm sure.”

“Anybody in the band good at video editing?” Fujimoto asked. “Because if not, I'm about to advise you, _on_ the record, that a vblog is a terrible idea.”

“. . . I think Subaru and Fuuma both took some classes in high school. I'll ask.”

“You do that.”

Fai smiled, feeling better, with ideas for videos already lighting up his brain. “So what should I definitely  _not_ do?”

Fujimoto gave him a grim look. “I've heard some tales from the road, and your personal choices are none of my business—” Fai held his breath. “—look, don't drink alcohol on camera. I'm not asking, it's none of my business what you do in private as long as it stays in private, but roadies and groupies talk and there are comments online, and just—”

“Yeah, sure, not a problem,” Fai sighed in relief. “Not a problem at all.”

 

* * *

 

A rustling in the dark. A bark of laughter. A muffled voice saying, “Hey, how do you—?”

And then Subaru bathed in weak autumn sunlight, sitting on top of the kitchen table and strumming an acoustic guitar. “Hey baby, won't you look my way,” he sang, “I could be your new addiction—”

The camera panned over to show Kamui sitting in one of the chairs, strumming along beside him, and he sang the next line. “Hey baby, what you got to say, all you're giving me is fiction—”

The film showed them bobbing their heads, grinning at each other, and then panned over to show Fai at the stove making pancakes, a plain white apron tied over his jeans and tshirt. All of them were barefoot.

“Hello!” he said cheerfully, waving a spatula at the camera as the other two kept singing softly. “Welcome to our first video! We've never done one of these before and to be honest we all feel totally awkward, so I thought for the first one we could just keep it simple and show off the studio where we do a lot of our work. It's um, our house. I'm cooking. They're warming up. We're gonna try to write a song after pancakes. I wouldn't bore you with the whole 'I'm making pancakes' thing, but I had to bribe the camerawoman with breakfast to get her over here. Say hi, Sakura.”

The camera flipped over dizzingly and pointed into Sakura's face from far too close up. “For the record, this is not  _our_ house, just theirs. I do not live in the bachelor pad. Anyway, hello. And don't think too badly of me. I would have come over anyway, but I'm manipulative and Fai makes amazing pancakes.”

“Hey!” Fai cried out, and the smothered laughter was cut off. The film resumed to show that they'd retreated to the house's third bedroom, which was the music room, which was where they worked a lot, as Sakura explained. They'd written their entire first album in this room before they'd gotten signed on with a record company.

They'd set the camera up on a tripod. Set to their own music, there was a montage of footage of the four of them scribbling on scratch paper and banging things out on various instruments.

“I need a violin!” Fai shouted in the midst of the montage. “Why do none of us play the violin?”

The montage also included Kamui and Subaru doing their sibling-bickering thing, and then Touya and Yukito showing up and sitting down with them. Fai and Yukito started pelting each other with wadded-up paper, and there was a lot of laughter, and a shot of Touya and Yukito kissing. The music faded out along with the picture, and then the film cut to Fai sitting in front of the camera, the room empty around him.

“They all got bored and abandoned me,” he said mournfully. “Actually, Subaru and Sakura had to go down to their school campus to register their classes for next semester. So they left it to me to thank everybody for watching our first video. I hope you had fun seeing what our writing process is like. We're a bunch of dorks, but I swear this actually takes a lot of work.”

He made a serious face, and got a little closer to the camera. “Which brings me to something I wanted to say. We had the number two hit of the summer, and we worked hard for that. I've seen a lot of comments out there that are extremely impolite toward the artist who had the number one hit of the summer. She works hard, just like we do.”

He turned on his heartbreaker smile. “I just wanted to apologize for any offense you might have felt, Miss Jepsen. I think you're wonderful. And just to prove it to everyone, what do you say we make our next big hit a collaboration? I'd love to work with you. So you know . . . Call me, maybe.”

He fell to laughing. “Sorry, I had to do that. But seriously, have your people call my people. We have people for that, right? I feel like we have people for that. Anyway, just need to give a final shout-out to our fans. Thanks for sticking with us. We'll see you again soon.”

The video ended, and Fai smiled at Subaru. It wasn't the greatest thing they'd ever made together, obviously. But it made all the relevant points. They were a family, they were generally wholesome, Touya and Yukito were absolutely on-the-record a couple, they all worked really hard and they cared about their fans.

“Carly Rae Jepsen?” Subaru asked, not for the first time.

Fai shrugged. “The studio has already been contacted by hers about doing a collaboration for some kind of Christmas album, so I threw it in there. They uh. Just want me, actually.” He blushed and looked at his lap. “They want the two of us to do 'Baby It's Cold Outside' together. They don't need the whole band. I haven't . . . agreed to it yet.”

Subaru put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. “You should. Why not? It sounds like fun.”

“You don't think . . .”

“Nobody's gonna be mad at you. You're a musician now, go make music. We've all got other stuff we're pursuing on our own now that we're back home. Why shouldn't you?”

Fai smiled a little, and bumped their shoulders together. “I guess you're right.”

Subaru got up and stretched his arms over his head. “Okay, if we're done editing, then I gotta go get some sleep. I had to work stupid-early this morning.” Subaru had decided he wanted some structure and steady income before he went back to school in January, so he'd gotten himself a job at Starbucks. Nobody expected to see a rock star in a green apron, and his manager had no idea who he was, so he wasn't having any trouble keeping a low profile.

“All right. See you tomorrow.”

Kamui was out somewhere. Looking for a job of his own, it seemed. He hadn't quite decided to go back to school, and now it was too late for him to sign up for the next semester, so he was going to have to wait until fall of next year. Fai had no idea what kind of job he was looking for.

“I should do music lessons,” he mused. “Or go back to work at the bar. I kinda miss the bar.”

He was chattering at himself as if distraction would keep it from happening, but he was already closing the door to his bedroom, and then the bathroom inside it. He was digging a plastic bag out from under his collection of hair-care products.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered. “You are quitting. You are not doing this. You have already broken this habit once before. You can do it again. Put it the fuck away. No, you idiot. Flush it. Flush the fucking thing.”

Instead, his hands were trembling as he swept a clear spot on the counter.

“You're worse off than last time. You're using more. You're gonna have to take this slow, but you can do this. Just take a little. Like half that, you idiot.”

He judged it by eye. Half. That was. Better. Better than trying to justify the amount he'd been using up until now. Half was better.

“You can do this. Half. And then a quarter. And then none. Yeah.”

He stayed in the bathroom for a long time, sitting on the closed toilet with his hair twined in his fingers and hateful laughter bouncing off the walls.

 


	6. Chapter 6

_If you could see me_

_Whoever I am_

_It’s not like the movies_

_But it’s not all skin and bones_

 

 

Fuuma sat on the couch and fiddled with his phone. He wanted to text Kamui, and also didn't want to. He didn't want to screw up. He had such a long history of screwing things up with Kamui, and he could tell that this was important, this was like _my-twin-has-a-stalker-and-I-need-help_ level of important. He couldn't do this wrong, not this time. He just had this feeling that he couldn't apologize or smooth it over if he messed up this particular thing.

The first text from Kamui had come only a week after they'd gotten back from the concert tour. Before that meeting with Fujimoto, where Subaru had held him back and warned him. Fuuma had already known something was wrong by then.

There had been a lot more texts in the weeks that had followed. Fuuma hadn't answered any of them. Oh, sure, he'd texted Kamui about other stuff, meaningless stuff. But he didn't answer these ones. Just saved them in his phone. It seemed like Kamui was trying to say something important but he couldn't seem to get there, and Fuuma didn't want to interrupt.

He thought about them a lot.

He found himself opening them up and reading them again, hoping like he did every time that this would be the moment that clarity would dawn and he would know how to respond.

_> Would you still care about me if I looked different?_

_> I can't even tell what you want from me_

_> seriously, is it flirting or just about annoying me, anyway?_

_> Subaru said I'm not happy and I think he might be right_

_> I don't know how to be happy._

_> I hate_

_> sorry, I was trying to delete that_

_> do you think I'm attractive?_

_> I don't know what I want anymore_

_> Did you ever wish you were somebody else?_

Fuuma fiddled with his cell phone, starting to compose a message and then deleting it. He'd done it a million times in the past month. He didn't know what was up with Kamui, and he didn't know how to find out. He had seen him a few times, when they all pretended they were one big happy family and he got invited over to the house to eat with them when they were having a writing session or something. Kamui had always been slender but now he looked hollowed-out. Exhausted.

He'd tried to ask Subaru, but Subaru said he couldn't talk about it. Kamui was the only one who could decide whether or not to talk about what he was going through. Fuuma felt something in his throat struggling to climb out when Subaru said that.

He's trying to, he wanted to say. He's trying to talk about it, but I don't think he knows how. Please help.

But he didn't say that. He let it be. He was starting to feel like that had been a mistake. Hell, it had felt like a mistake five minutes after the conversation ended. He should have said something.

His fingers suddenly started composing a new message, but this one went to Subaru.

_Kamui has been texting me a lot lately. He's asking weird questions and I don't know what to do._

It was only a minute later that the response came back.

_> What kind of weird questions?_

_Like if I find him attractive and if I ever wanted to be somebody else. He also said he doesn't know how to be happy._

Fuuma could hear Kurogane clomping around in the bathroom, having just finished taking a shower. Fuuma had already taken one, and he scrubbed a hand through his damp hair while he waited for a response. He'd started the electrician training program and was all but promised a place in the company that Kurogane and Shizuka worked for once he got finished. It wasn't that interesting, but neither was it entirely boring. He didn't really want to rig the stage and do tech unless he was doing it for the Paper Cranes, so he had to find some way to make a living.

Maybe he should try to make dinner or something. Kurogane hadn't come home until nearly eight and grunted something about his job sucking this time of year and actual fires that needed to be put out. Fuuma hadn't paid a lot of attention. He'd been too worn out from a day of cramming abbreviations into his head and slicing his thumb open while practicing during training, and taking the bus home in the ridiculous November cold in Chicago. Last winter had nearly killed him, and this one wasn't any easier on his Florida-born-and-bred soul.

A text message came in.

_> I don't know what to say. I know what the problem is, but it's not my place to tell you. What have you said back?_

_Nothing. I haven't said anything. I didn't know what to say._

_> Okay. That's at least not a disaster._

_You could help me out a little more than that, dude._

_> I'm sorry._

Fuuma waited again, and finally Subaru came back with more.

_> He's having a sort of identity crisis. He's going through a lot. It's got a lot to do with our parents and the way we were raised, I think. Maybe you should just let him talk without answering. He's not talking to me about it much, and I'm sort of glad he's talking to somebody about it._

_Yeah, okay. Can do, I guess._

This was, if anything, even more confusing than it already was, but there wasn't a lot that Fuuma could do about it.

Except . . . His fingers flew, and he hit the send button before he could think about it too hard.

_Look, you're my friend no matter what, and I'm always going to care about you. So whatever's wrong, you can talk to me anytime. No strings attached._

And then he tried to let it go. He went into the kitchen and rummaged. Unfortunately he had no clue what he was doing. Plus they had terrible food. Frozen pizzas, lunchmeat and pre-sliced cheese, he had a bottle of milk that was probably off, oatmeal . . .

When Kurogane came out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, Fuuma had dumped two cans of soup into a pot on the stove and was squinting at the directions on a package of corn muffin mix.

“Should I have done this before I started heating the soup up?”

Kurogane snorted. “You have literally never cooked for yourself, have you?”

“Not really,” Fuuma admitted. “I lived in the dorms at my university and ate in the cafeteria. I've pretty much been living on Taco Bell and Hot Pockets since then, or whatever we eat on the road.”

Kurogane shook his head. “Wow. Fuck, I've been acting like a lazy asshole since we got back because I'm doing that stupid I've-been-dumped-and-my-ex-has-a-new-boyfriend depression thing. But I'm done. Oh my god, what have we been eating? This is sick. Okay, from now on, I'm buying real food and teaching you how to cook, okay?”

Fuuma shouldn't be surprised that Kurogane knew how to cook. Kurogane apparently knew how to do everything. He had made some kind of comment about women's nail polish while they were watching a commercial on t.v. last night. Fuuma couldn't exactly make fun of him when the guy also knew how to re-do the plumbing in the bathroom. Maybe adults were just supposed to know shit like that. Maybe there was a book.

“Hey is there like, a manual for being a grownup?”

Kurogane rolled his eyes.

“No, seriously, where do you learn how to cook and iron your shirts and shit?”

Kurogane shrugged. “I learned from my—from Lydia. You're gonna learn from me. I guess it's just the kind of thing people have to teach each other.”

Fuuma grinned, but instead of saying thank you he said, “I still think there should be a manual.”

Then his phone pinged. Kurogane was left to figure out the muffin mix while Fuuma read the new text with his heart pounding too hard.

_> Would you hate me if I was a woman?_

“What the fuck, what the fuck,” Fuuma chanted as he read it over and over again. “What the fuck, Kamui.”

He could tell it wasn't a joke. Subaru had literally just told him that Kamui was having an identity crisis that he'd been struggling with since childhood. Fuuma immediately wanted to be angry, and sad. He'd been in love with Kamui since the moment he laid eyes on him, but he was  _gay_ and he didn't fall in love with women, and Kamui was somehow running so far away from him that there was no way he could ever get him back. And then he thought about how long Kamui had been alone with this. Certainly longer than the month he'd been texting Fuuma.

He was desperate, and sad, and lonely and he was  _Kamui_ . There was only one right answer.

_No, of course not._

Did he mean it? Could he see Kamui as a woman and care about that woman? Want to listen to what she had to say and want to hold her when she was crying? Would he love her?

His fingers were shaking, but he typed it out and sent it.

_I said I would always care about you. You'll always be my friend. You're not alone, okay?_

Kamui never responded, but Fuuma was still glad he sent it. He went back into the kitchen to help Kurogane, but it felt hard to walk. Like the floor had been yanked out from under him and he was trying to figure out how to walk on nothing but empty air.

“You okay?” Kurogane said, forehead knitting into a frown.

“Fine,” Fuuma muttered. “Just Kamui.”

Kurogane's frown just got deeper at that. “So are you okay?” he repeated.

He knew how bad Fuuma got messed up over Kamui, so yeah, maybe it was stupid to try to “Just Kamui” him. To distract and annoy him, Fuuma pulled up 'Baby It's Cold Outside' on his phone and started playing it. Fai and Carly Rae Jepsen started crooning at them, and Kurogane hunched his shoulders and started not so much stirring the soup as stabbing it.

It wasn't that Kurogane hated the song, he didn't think. Or even that he hated Fai going off and recording songs without the rest of the band. He didn't even think Kurogane hated Carly Rae Jepsen.

No, it was just that all the gossip magazines a few weeks ago had paparazzi photos of Fai and Carly Rae Jepsen holding hands while they walked out of a coffee shop in Los Angeles. They'd gone there to record their song and Fai had come back in a swirl of rumors that he was secretly dating his duet partner. Kurogane had been moody ever since, and it had way less to do with Shizuka dumping him than he claimed.

“Turn that shit off, you made your point,” he muttered.

“Okay, sorry,” he muttered in return.

They turned on the t.v. to cover the awkward silence. They had gotten over it enough for Kurogane to laugh and shove Fuuma playfully when he started insisting that they put up a Christmas tree on the weekend.

 

* * *

 

_(five years and four months ago)_

 

They had been dating for all of two weeks before Fai fell asleep on Yasha's couch for the first time. That time, Yasha just chuckled and woke him with a kiss and a stroke of his broad hand through Fai's hair. He said Fai was welcome to keep napping, but he might want to finish the studies he'd brought over first. Dinner was almost ready.

Yasha's good humor about Fai's tendency to fall asleep on his homework didn't last long. Neither did Fai's hope that Yasha's chivalrous nature and flattering possessiveness were true indicators of moral fiber. No, he was not so naïve as to be blind to what was happening when Yasha's “friends” happened by and Fai was sent immediately out on an errand or firmly reminded that he wanted a book from the university library.

His only fault was inexperience. He just thought that Yasha was selling weed. He didn't even think he cared that Yasha was doing it, and in fact gave himself the benefit of feeling worldly for rolling his eyes when Yasha sent him out of the apartment. He even suffered a niggling little belief that Yasha might eventually trust him enough to just let him stay instead of kicking him out every time.

He was dumb enough to say so, one night.

And that was how he had been led here, to this moment.

“You—are you kidding? Is this a joke? This isn't funny.”

He'd just admitted that his mother was sick, sicker than she'd been letting anyone know. Sicker than he'd admitted to himself until now. Yasha had been digging at him about why he was always so exhausted, always busy, and Fai had finally told him. He spent the first half of every night helping his increasingly frail mother to eat, take her medication, settle in for the night; the second half was now always at the bar where he waited tables. He'd only used to work there two or three days a week, and now he would work seven if they would give it to him and stay until closing every night. They were desperate for money—Freya had insurance, but it wasn't going to be enough when they had to move her into hospice care.

Fai struggled to keep from crying as he explained that seeing Yasha only in snatches between classes and when his mother napped away weekend afternoons wasn't really what he wanted. That he wished they had more time together. That he was desperate not to fail any of his classes and desperate not to lose his mother or his boyfriend. He didn't want to cry. Crying was something you could only do when you felt safe.

“You won't take money, will you?” Yasha had said in response to all this, stroking his thumb across Fai's jaw, his eyes tender. Fai flicked his eyes around the spacious apartment and designer furniture, and knew suddenly that Yasha didn't get all this from small change like marijuana. Even if he could have bent his own personality enough to accept that kind of help, he knew he couldn't take money that came from such shady origins. Yasha saw the rebellion on his face right away. “No, of course you wouldn't,” he said, cupping Fai's whole face in his hands. “Fai, what can I do to help? Tell me.”

“You don't know where I can get magic pills, do you?” he asked weakly. “I'm so stressed out, god. Even when I find time to sleep, I can't seem to relax. I don't want to take sleeping pills. My mom made me take them last year for a while, I hate them.”

Was he looking for marijuana? Was that what he wanted? He drank sometimes, at parties, but not much and he knew he'd have to drink too much and go down a bad path if he wanted that to be of any help. It was a stupid thing to say to someone like Yasha. He knew it before it left his lips.

That's when Yasha . . . smiled. It was kind of twisted-up looking. “You think you know what I do for a living, but you're only halfway correct.”

He was getting closer to figuring it out all the time, and Yasha took all the ambiguity away with a very short statement.

“I sell cocaine, Fai.”

“Oh,” Fai said weakly. What else was there to say? _“At least it's not heroin?”_ That might actually sound stupider aloud than it did in his head, somehow.

“It . . . it might help. A little. It's not exactly a long-term solution, and I'd normally never even suggest it to someone like you . . . I mean, fuck, Fai, half of the reason I asked you out in the first place was because you were so different, so fucking _normal_ , but. It might help. With the stress, I mean. Do you want some? I'll give it to you.”

And so here he was, asking if that was a joke, even though he knew it wasn't. The look on Yasha's face was pure earnestness, pure sympathy. Fai couldn't even tell if Yasha was just a liar acting out a part, or if he really did care in some psychotic way. What the hell did he even mean, _normal_? It didn't matter. None of that mattered.

“No, Yasha, no of course not,” he said, his voice shaking. “I don't—no.”

Yasha just nodded, gathered him into his arms on the couch, and used the remote control to re-start the movie he'd fallen asleep watching earlier.

“In that case, let me see what I can do to help you relax whenever you can be here,” he said softly.

It was the closest Fai did come to relaxing, these days. Those strong arms around him, the big hands carding in his hair, eating a meal that wasn't snatched out of a microwave or nibbled out of a paper bag, a safe place to study without interruption beyond a soft kiss on the back of his neck once in a while. He knew he shouldn't be calling a cocaine dealer his boyfriend. But Yasha was the only solid and stable thing he had, and he didn't know how to let him go.

 

* * *

 

Touya hadn't wanted to bring Kurogane with them, and Yukito knew it. Which was why he was being snappish and distant with his boyfriend. He wasn't trying to punish him, exactly, he was just still pissed off and didn't want to be talking to him while he was pissed off.

It was really _something_ of Touya to think that. Yukito didn't know _what_ , but he knew it was _something_. Ungenerous at best, and maybe cruel.

Kurogane could go to a bar if he wanted to go to one. He was going to hang out with them, not to drink. Yukito hadn't even needed to ask. He knew Kurogane and therefore he knew better. That Touya was apparently going to think something else, even if he didn't bring it up with either Yukito or Kurogane . . . It was stupid of him. It was—  _something_ .

Kurogane strolled in beside Yukito while Touya trailed dourly behind them after fiddling with locking the car as though it had somehow started malfunctioning in the last fifteen minutes. Kurogane turned a quizzical look at Yukito, unwinding the thick scarf from around his neck as they entered the slightly damp heat of the bar.

“Did you guys get in a fight?”

“Not exactly,” he sighed, tugging forcefully at his own scarf and nearly losing grip on the end of it in a last draft of biting Chicago wind before he was safely inside.

“Then why are you mad at him? Is he mad at me? Did you guys . . . not want me to come tonight?”

Kurogane was a smart guy. It didn't take him long to put together his own question with the grimace on Yukito's face and Touya's dramatic attitude like the actual world was ending tomorrow.

“You didn't want to bring me here, huh.”

“I wanted to,” Yukito objected, throwing Touya under the bus exactly where he deserved to be.

Kurogane turned back around to look at Touya as he entered behind them, and Yukito braced himself. They hadn't had one of their really loud and terrifying arguments since Syaoran had died and Kurogane had gotten sober. He didn't want to see one of those again, but he also didn't blame Kurogane for being angry. He wondered if he ought to call Fujitaka and Sakura so they knew it was one of  _those_ and were prepared for their boys to be emotional wrecks. They'd still been little more than kids last time this happened. He didn't know what nearly six years might do to them.

He watched, dumbfounded, as Kurogane approached Touya quietly and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, almost too quiet for Yukito to hear past the general din of the bar even though he was standing close. “It's gonna be fine. I promise. Okay?”

“You're not mad?”

“Nah,” Kurogane said easily.

“Did I hurt your feelings?”

Kurogane didn't answer that, and also didn't release him from the embrace.

“I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to— it's just that I—”

“Yeah, I know,” Kurogane said, squeezed him, and let him go. He rejoined Yukito and clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, let's squeeze in before the place gets too full.”

Yukito felt it all go whooshing out of him, and then he could finally relax and have a good time tonight. Apparently Kurogane had learned more in the last few years than simply to stop blaming himself for things beyond his control.

“I want a table,” Kurogane said when they started heading for the bar. “I don't want him to know we're here.”

“You don't? How come?”

Kurogane shrugged, but he looked like he was hiding something. “I want to know what he's like when I'm not around.”

That was . . . weird. Yukito had to admit that he and Kurogane hadn't had a lot of heart-to-hearts since, well, it had been a long time. But it was still weird that something could be going on with him that Yukito didn't know about. Were he and Fai having some kind of fight? Why would he ask to come along to karaoke night at Fai's bar if he was upset with him?

Touya shared a look with him and they shrugged without actually visibly shrugging. They had perfected silent conversation a long time ago. Neither of them knew what Kurogane was trying to do here, and they weren't mad at each other anymore, and that was all they really needed to talk about. Yukito leaned himself into Touya when they sat down, and conversation between the three of them fell into an easy pattern.

It felt good. It hadn't been just the three of them sitting around, hanging out without purpose other than company, in just so long . . .

He briefly buried his face in Touya's shoulder to hide how emotional he was getting, and hoped they both understood that he was only getting this way because he was happy. Kurogane ordered ginger ale without embarrassment when a waitress stopped at their table. Yukito kicked Touya under the table just to rub it in, and they both ordered their usual drinks.

The karaoke host kicked things off with a bang. He gave Fai the microphone right away and made him sing the first song of the night. It was a country song none of them knew, but they could tell Fai was killing it. He didn't know how to perform badly. The host told the patrons to welcome their favourite bartender back and let him get back to work. A round of whistles and whooping went around the room, and then everyone settled into karaoke.

Kurogane got up and went over to speak to the host. Touya and Yukito glared at him when he came back to the table.

“Did you put me in to sing?” Touya demanded.

“Nope.”

“Not me either?” Yukito pressed.

“Nope.”

“Are—are you going to sing?”

“Hell, no.”

“Then . . . oh my god, you troll. What did you put him in for?”

Kurogane just grinned. He settled back into the padded seat with his ginger ale to watch the usual crowd screech and fumble their way through their selections. There were a few gems among them, but none held a candle to Fai. They honestly couldn't tell, watching him scurry to fill orders, which of the bar patrons knew who he was. At least a few of them must, but nobody bothered him. Maybe management was strict. Maybe people here were just nice. Either way, Fai looked happy here.

And then the host reached his place on the list and his voice pitched up in mischievousness. “Well, well, well, what have we here. Looks like someone's playing a little joke on Fai, here.”

Fai whipped around, the authenticity fading from his smile until only the frozen keep-the-customers-happy upward twist of his lips remained.

“Fai, someone really wants you to sing again tonight.”

Fai looked panicked, and Kurogane suddenly looked regretful. Oh, shit. Yukito's heart skipped a beat. Did they have Paper Cranes songs in the options now? Had Kurogane put him down to do Pinocchio or something?

“Fai, you up to do 'Moves Like Jagger' tonight?”

Fai barked out a surprised laugh, and Kurogane relaxed.

“You absolute fucker,” Touya muttered, but he was smiling. “What's wrong with you?”

Fai let himself be persuaded by all the catcalling, and vaulted over the bar with the kind of practiced ease that meant he'd done it countless times before. They could all picture him practicing it in the half-dark after all the customers went home, just for kicks, three or four years ago when he was less . . . weary.

“All right, but I'm going to find out who put me in for this and give you nothing but soda for the rest of the night,” he laughed.

Keeping his head low, Kurogane laughed too.

“Joke's on you, buddy,” he murmured, lifting his ginger ale just enough for Touya and Yukito's amusement.

Then the song started up, and Fai got into it. He danced around the room, proving that he did have moves, if not like Jagger, then just as good as his. Fai didn't come over to their side of the room, focusing his attentions on a gorgeous blond girl who was clearly having a birthday judging by the sparkly plastic tiara and the pile of wrapping paper beside the trinkets on her table. He gyrated his hips for her and made all her girlfriends whoop with glee and her blush ferociously.

Apparently just to prove a point, he next found a guy who looked straight as an arrow, and crooned at him with lowered eyelids, stroking a hand under his jaw for a moment. The guy looked too dumbstruck to protest. Then Fai lost interest in picking out particular patrons, and just sang.

God, he was good. Sometimes even they forgot how good he really was. Kurogane was staring at the man like a victim of dehydration would stare at a cool mountain spring. And suddenly it clicked for Yukito. Wanting to be here without telling Fai that he'd come. All those hints Sakura had been dropping. Kurogane had a thing for this guy.

And of course he had totally bought into that stupid thing about Fai having a secret pop star girlfriend.

Yukito leaned over the table. “Kurogane.”

“Hnh.” He couldn't even take his eyes off the guy. Wow, this was kind of sad.

“Fai told the whole band a couple of weeks ago, when we got together to work on a song. He's not actually with that chick. He's not even interested. They got along, and they thought they were being funny. Apparently Fujimoto even gave him the green light to show off in front of the camera, said it would help promote the song. Fai wanted us to know. I'm guessing that can include you.”

Kurogane tore his eyes away from Fai for a split second. “Not interested in her? At all?”

“Just between you and me, I think he leans a lot more toward the masculine in his partners. It's a hunch.”

It was nearing the moment for Christina Aguilera's solo in the song, and they wondered if Fai was going to pitch his voice and just go for it. But that was when Fai decided to reveal that he knew they were present. He must have known for a while. Possibly the whole night. He sauntered over to their table, every sinuous motion of his hips proving why they let him take the front of the stage.

He stuck the microphone into Kurogane's face.

Everyone looked shocked. Even the karaoke host. Kurogane looked terrified. But Fai was just looking at him, heated and challenging and heavy.

Kurogane's lips cracked apart, he licked them. And just barely on time, almost missing the beat, he filled in his part. His voice was rough with disuse, but something about the rumble actually made it kind of sexy. Yukito felt the thrill go up his spine. He'd forgotten what this sounded like. Kurogane rasped where the original solo belted. It was unpracticed and barely audible. Then it was over and Fai was moving away, finishing the song. Yukito realized that he was holding Touya's hand so hard that he was crushing it. He tried to let go, but Touya clung onto him.

“Nice,” Touya said, sounding breezy and uncaring, when Kurogane planted his hands on top of the table to stop them from shaking. “Sounded good.”

“I— I can't—” Kurogane said, sounding strangled. “I need some air, okay?”

He jerked up and headed for the door, yanking his coat on, not realizing that the song was over and Fai had handed the microphone back after saying “That was fun, but damn, I need a break. See you all in fifteen or so.”

Fai headed straight for Kurogane, and caught him before he could exit. Yukito felt torn. Did he pin Touya to the seat to keep him from getting involved, or did he rush over there with him to help? He needed to know exactly how many years of progress Kurogane had just lost because Fai had pushed him without knowing how dangerous that was.

Kurogane was giving Fai that look again, that look like he was a glass of cold water in a desert. He and Touya both got up at the same time and crept closer to try to overhear without interrupting.

“That was fucking hot as hell and you know it,” Kurogane was saying, as if in response to something that Fai had said.

“You weren't so bad yourself,” Fai replied. He sounded weighed down. His eyes were dark.

Kurogane cast his eyes to the side. “I don't— don't make me do that again, okay?”

“I didn't _make_ you—”

“You wanted to prove something, I don't know what, but hopefully it's out of your system, because I'm not doing that again,” Kurogane snapped.

“Okay,” Fai said, more softly. “Okay. I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I've always liked the way you sing. I just wanted to hear it again.”

“Again?”

“I . . . may have snuck out of the house as a teenager to go to one of your concerts. Three times.”

Kurogane looked too shaken to be angry. “Fai, don't, okay?”

Touya looked like he wanted to step in. Yukito restrained him. These two were grownups. Let them talk. If Kurogane needed them afterwards, they could take care of him then.

“Look, I don't really understand _why_ , but I do understand that you quit singing and you don't want to. Okay? I won't do that again. I'm sorry. I just . . . I felt so fucking good, like all the pressure was gone, and you were there, and I—I don't know. I'm sorry.”

“You saying you're happy to have me around?” Kurogane asked, sounding surprised. “I didn't— Fai, um. I wasn't sure if you would even— look, _are_ you?”

“Attracted to the male gender, yes, if that's what you're trying to ask. Bisexual, even.”

“Not exactly,” Kurogane snorted. “I'm trying to ask if you're interested in _me_. Because I'd really like to ask you on a date, but I don't want to make an even bigger ass out of myself than I usually do around you.”

“I— really? I didn't know _you_ were interested.”

“Dude, remember how bad I screwed up the sound in Cleveland? Remember that?”

“Yes?”

“I couldn't take my fucking eyes off you and I fucking forgot I was working. I love watching you up there. Is that as sappy as it sounds?”

Fai didn't answer, but his smile was threatening to break his face in half.

“So will you? Go out with me?”

Fai smiled, and nodded, and all of Yukito's breath blew out of him at the same time Kurogane's did. He hadn't even known he was holding it.

“How's Saturday?” Fai blurted out.

Kurogane grinned. “Good. Saturday's good. I'm guessing you mean tomorrow. I'll pick you up?”

“Oh god, that is tomorrow. Sure, yeah, you can pick me up.”

“Okay.”

“I. Uh. Have to get back to work.”

“Okay, yeah, no, of course you do. But um. Okay.”

“Tomorrow,” Fai said.

“Tomorrow,” Kurogane repeated.

Fai darted in and pecked the corner of Kurogane's lips in the world's fastest kiss. “See you then.”

He ran back to the bar and vaulted over it again amidst a round of whistling and whooping that nearly deafened them. Kurogane was standing there looking like someone had hit him over the head with a plank, so Touya dredged up some pity in his soul and threw a few bills on the table so they could hustle Kurogane out of there and get him home.

“You okay?” Touya asked with a careful look as he took Kurogane's hand and pushed the car keys into it. There was still the issue of Kurogane voluntarily singing in public into a microphone, which was something he hadn't done since he'd gotten sober.

“I have a date,” Kurogane replied, jingling the keys as if to acknowledge that he had them.

“So I heard. On Saturday.”

“With Fai.”

“Yeah, man, I got that.”

“You guys don't get it, I've been wanting to do that since you dragged me over to wire up the twins' guitars the first time. Like three years ago.”

“Then why didn't you?” Yukito asked, sliding into the car's backseat and waving at Touya to hurry the hell up and get in out of the cold.

“Um, I was shacking up with Shizuka at the time?”

The fact that Shizuka had left him for another guy made that lie obvious. The real reason, and all three of them knew it, was that Kurogane had still barely felt like he was allowed to rejoin the human race back then. And he would never have done anything to screw up their chances of making it again as a band, and that meant not getting involved with their lead singer. But now, things were different. He had his confidence back and the Paper Cranes were solid.

Yukito almost warned him about how Fai had been acting lately. Distant. Laughing too much as though it could cover up the fact that he clearly had problems he wasn't talking about. Drinking too much. Disappearing when he'd said he'd be around.

Yukito didn't, though. Kurogane was smart enough to make those observations for himself and he could make the decision about whether or not he could handle being around that. And maybe, just maybe, something like this was exactly what Fai needed to pull himself out of the hole he seemed to be digging. Yukito still felt bad about not saying it, though, when Kurogane pulled into the neighborhood that held both of their apartment complexes.

“You want me to have Fuuma come pick me up in my car?”

“Naw, Yuki can drive,” Touya said. “He only had one drink.”

Yukito nodded his agreement. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just head to your place, I'll get us home from there.”

Kurogane did as directed, and they bid each other goodnight while hustling themselves around in the cold to switch seats. Kurogane just waved at them as he jogged upstairs to his apartment. It kind of made Yukito feel good that there was a light in the window up there. When he'd found out that Shizuka and Kurogane had broken up while they were on tour, he'd worried. None of them liked the idea of Kurogane living by himself. Yukito didn't know Fuuma that well, didn't know whether he and Kurogane were close, but he was glad that the other man was around.

Yukito cast a glance over at his boyfriend as he put the car into gear to drive home. “Is it just me, or is this possibly the worst idea ever?”

He didn't even have to clarify which idea he was talking about. “They're going to destroy each other,” Touya said, his mouth set in a grim line. “This is _absolutely_ the worst idea ever.” He drummed his fingers on the console between them. “Fuck. Why can he and Shizuka not actually fall in love with each other? Why is that so hard?”

Yukito squeezed Touya's fingers before letting go to turn onto their street. “Maybe they'll be good for each other.”

Touya's silence said more than anything he might have voiced aloud.

 

* * *

 

_(six years ago)_

 

It had been a long time since Fai had come to the auditorium where the musicians gathered to practice together. His own life had been busy the past year or two. He and his mother both played at home every day, and she still had Ashura and Kohaku over to practice with her at least once a week, so it wasn't as though he was feeling a lack of music in his life.

But it was still something special to come into the vaulted auditorium, breathe in air that always smelled of the polish they used on the instruments, see the rows of chairs with their rows of music stands.

Today, he was only here on an errand. The composer for the orchestra's new piece was not exactly understanding of how close to the date of the concert was, and had made some additional changes for the string instruments. Additional, his mother stressed when she told him about it. Freya wasn't one to complain, but he could hear how close to tears she was, and he'd volunteered to swing by the office to pick up the new sheet music for her. It was really all he could do to help.

He'd already been out of the house, at the university bookstore to get his materials before his second year started next week. He didn't exactly want to lug his heavy bookbag on an extra bus and down to the administrative offices, but he did want to take that strain out of his mother's voice.

So here he was, weighed down but equipped with the new music, and sent on an additional errand that he definitely had not actually volunteered for. Sonomi Daidouji, who was the something-something important (Fai should really have paid attention to the title on her door) and who kept track of donations and benefit concerts and charitable youth outreach things, was in the office. She'd said her thirteen-year-old daughter was doing violin practice in the auditorium and would Fai mind terribly poking his head in there and informing her that it was nearly time to go to ballet class and she should put away her music things and change into her leotard?

Fai had always known that Ms. Daidouji was a little . . . intense. He should have known she was one of _those_ moms. Violin, ballet, and god knew what else. The girl probably went to a prep school and probably studied French or something.

Fai loved his mom for that. Freya was thrilled to have a son that was musically talented, and she'd been more than happy to arrange lessons for any instrument he wanted to study—but she never pushed him. He didn't need it. He'd either take an interest and put in the effort, or he wouldn't. He'd learned cello from her and flute from one of her colleagues, piano from an elderly woman down the street, and guitar from a high school classmate whose talent he'd surpassed within three months. Thank heavens Freya had never assumed that his giftedness and dedication meant he also needed to join the debate team and learn to speak Chinese. Music was what he loved, and she'd been content to share that with him.

He was probably judging Ms. Daidouji—and her daughter—too harshly, he conceded. He barely knew them.

He breathed in the familiar air, and heard the sweet calling song of the violin, and smiled for a moment in the simple pleasure of it. Then he snorted in surprised amusement, and strode around the curtain where the girl had hidden herself before setting her strings wailing.

“Is that Metallica?” he grinned.

The girl jumped in shock, the bow screeched unpleasantly, and she stood up in a rush. “Oh, hello,” she said nervously, and peered around the curtain.

“Your mom's still in the office,” he assured her.

She visibly relaxed, pushing a long and heavy hank of hair over her shoulder. “I love her,” she said conspiratorially, “but she has certain ideas about what music is and is not. And I'm not going to jeopardize having the lessons paid for, you know?”

Fai chuckled. “I thought my mom would have a heart attack when she came home and found me using her cello to play The Foo Fighters, but she actually kind of liked it. She helped me finish the arrangement, even.”

“Ohhhh, your mom is Freya Fluorite?”

“Yep. I'm Fai,” he said, and tried out a clumsy bow to make her laugh before taking the hand she was holding out to him.

“I'm Tomoyo Daidouji. But I guess you knew that, if you know my mom.”

“I don't, really,” he assured her. “I was just in the office getting something for my mom, and yours sent me in here to remind you that you've got ballet class soon.”

She nodded appreciatively. “I lost track of time, I guess. Thanks!”

She had a sweet smile. She was a sweet girl. Fai had expected some humorless overworked little thing, and instead she was all ladylike and friendly. She was cute as hell, to be honest, and he appreciated the Metallica.

“If you ever want to hang out and try to put something together, just for fun, let me know,” he offered. “If we can get a viola player, we could totally rock out.”

She laughed. “Thanks, but, um, you know I'm thirteen, right? You look older.”

“Oh, god, sweetie, I didn't mean it like that. I am older; I'm almost twenty. And kinda gay.”

“Can you even be 'kinda' gay?” she giggled, not even fazed.

“I think I'm bi, actually. And besides, apparently I'm a late bloomer who didn't even realize you might be until like, last year.”

Tomoyo tittered. “I figured it out when I was like,  _five_ .”

Fai snickered. “Yeah, well, not all of us can be that precocious. Anyway, I gotta run and you gotta dance, apparently, so I'll see you later.”

Tomoyo winked at him before she started gathering up her sheet music.

“Isn't it kind of a lot?” he suddenly blurted out. “Violin and ballet both?”

She shrugged. “Maybe, but I love both of them and I'm not sure yet whether I want to be a musician or a dancer. I've only got about a year to figure it out before I have to start focusing, so I'd rather enjoy both of them while I can.”

“Oh, wow. I thought maybe your mom made you. She seems kinda—” he waved the end of the sentence away.

“She is totally—” Tomoyo copied the hand gesture, “but only about work. She occasionally reminds me that I have a home I could be at when I don't feel like being at practice or recitals.”

“You're kind of awesome,” Fai said admiringly, and then he escorted her back to her mother's office like the gentleman his mother was always claiming he could be if he tried.

 

* * *

 

Kurogane thought it would be too much if he opened the car door for Fai. He would park the car in front, go up to the door and maybe Fai would ask him to come inside for a few minutes or maybe they'd head straight out, but it would be trying too hard if he hurried back to the car to open the door for him.

So he wouldn't do that. In fact, his plan was to make this as low-key as possible.

Truth be told, he didn't really know what he was doing anyway. He was far more apt to fall into bed with a guy he was interested in than he was to take him out for a coffee. He hadn't done the sweaty-palmed nervous dinner date thing since his one and only year of college—a handful of drunken one-night-stands with rock groupies had been followed by a nearly-accidental three and a half years with Shizuka in which they'd mostly skipped dating.

So here he was, pulling onto Fai's street and thinking morosely that he was totally going to screw this up. He wasn't the same guy he'd been when he was younger. He didn't swagger and cover up nerves with arrogance anymore. He'd probably end up making things so awkward that Fai just laughed at him and said it was a nice thought but there were a thousand other people flinging themselves at his feet.

Then Fai came out of his front door and jogged up to Kurogane's car before he even had a chance to turn the engine off.

“Hey!” he said brightly as he slid himself into the passenger seat. “I totally was not watching for your car out the window, in case you were wondering, because people stop doing that when they're like fifteen, so clearly I didn't know you were here and just happened to step outside for no reason just as you pulled up.” He grinned broadly, and it made him look so fucking handsome that Kurogane nearly drove into a mailbox. “Can you tell I'm nervous? I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm nervous.”

Kurogane felt the knot in his stomach loosening up, and he ended up chuckling like he hadn't spent the past hour in mental agony.

“Don't be,” he said. “I, uh, I was hoping we could just take this casual and see how it goes. Is that okay?”

Fai let his breath out in a whoosh and leaned back in the seat. “Yeah. That sounds great.”

Kurogane gave him a lopsided smile as he headed them toward the mall. “It's been a while for you too, huh?”

Fai laughed. “Yeah, you could say that. It's hard to date when you're in a different city every couple of days.”

“I hear ya.”

Fai's face suddenly closed off a little.

“What?” Kurogane asked.

“Nothing.”

“Ha, I know better. If you were going to say something about me and dating, go for it, I promise not to fly into a fit of rage and throw you out of the car.”

“What a gentleman you are,” Fai said dryly. “I just thought . . . you've been with Shizuka for a long time, and it must be . . . weird.”

Kurogane snorted. “Is this a polite way of accusing me of being a jerk for being interested in you when I was already in a relationship? Or just a polite way of accusing me of being a jerk for being over him so fast?”

Fai grimaced, looking apologetic. “I didn't mean it quite that way, you know. But it is . . . god, it's none of my business. I'm sorry. If we didn't know all the same people, I wouldn't even know all of this, so it's really—it's not important.”

Kurogane gave him a disbelieving look. He found that he honestly didn't mind talking to Fai about this, a little bit. It was true; they knew all the same people and Fai already had details he probably wouldn't have shared on a first date. But here they were, so it was probably best to make things clear.

“Look, you already know more about me than I really would have liked. So let's just say that Shizuka and I were both pretty fucked up for a while and we got each other through some bad times because it was what we needed. Now that I can stand on my own again, I want to, well, stand on my own. It's about time I started figuring out what I want, what makes me happy.”

Fai was very quiet.

“So far, that's my family, guitar tech, and being around you,” Kurogane concluded. “I'm sorry that we're starting off so heavy. I just wanted to make sure you knew that I . . . that I want to try this. That I'm ready for it. In a good headspace.”

“Okay,” Fai said softly. “I guess I haven't been good at standing on my own and looking for what makes me happy, either. I can't say that my, um, my headspace is so great lately. But maybe that's what we—you know, maybe we can help each other figure this out.”

Kurogane didn't know if they could trust each other enough for that, but he said, “Maybe.” He tried not to think about it too hard before he let his hand fall from the steering wheel and land on Fai's hand. He tried to think even less about the fact that Fai didn't move his hand away and let him do it. “At the moment, though, let's just help each other with Christmas shopping.”

“Christmas shopping?” Fai asked, breaking the heavy atmosphere with a delighted smile.

“Yep. I got no idea what to get for Sakura, so I'm conscripting you to help me because you guys like the same thing ninety percent of the time. I'm going to let you talk me into ice skating at the rink they have set up at the mall, and after a couple of hours you will be tired and I will be gallant and offer to take you to dinner to get you off your feet. If I'm feeling _really_ gentlemanly, I'll let you pick the restaurant.”

Fai laughed so much that Kurogane felt the last of the anxiety leave him. He was doing this right, apparently. So far. Fuck, he hadn't even known he was so worried until it went away.

“Is there any spare time in this demanding and carefully structured schedule for us to grab some coffee? I may not last until dinnertime without it.”

“I'll try to squeeze it in,” Kurogane said thoughtfully. “No promises.”

“I haven't done any of my Christmas shopping yet,” Fai admitted as they pulled into a parking garage. “So this is great. Hey, you don't know what I should get for a teenaged girl I haven't seen in five years, do you?”

Kurogane figured his facial expression probably spoke for itself on that point.

“Yeah, okay,” Fai grinned, reclaiming his hand as they walked toward the mall. “I've just got this old family friend I've been meaning to reconnect with. Actually, wait, is she even a teenager anymore? I think she's Sakura's age. I don't remember.”

“So who is she, anyway?”

“Our moms were friends,” he explained casually. It made Kurogane look at him sharply. He'd never heard Fai mention his family, and all he knew was that Fai's house was inherited. “Well, sort of friends. But I wanted to talk to her about something. I'll probably just bring her flowers or something.”

Fai seemed nervous again. “You're acting like you have a thing for her,” Kurogane muttered. Which. Was stupid of him.

“Fuck, no, just to talk to her about something,” Fai said easily, apparently oblivious to his stupidity. “Also, look, it's the comic book store. Let's start Sakura-shopping.”

Despite the serious beginning, most of their date consisted of Kurogane rolling his eyes while Fai teased him with whoopee cushions and sex toys at a novelty shop, and blushing red as a tomato when Fai dragged him across the ice for a quick kiss before darting away as if expecting Kurogane to give chase. It kept up at dinner with Kurogane's retaliation, wiggling an octopus leg from his seafood salad in Fai's face to make him turn white, and finally walking Fai to his front door with bags in both hands as if to prove that he could be both mature and chivalrous.

He dropped the bags when their first real kiss didn't seem to be letting up anytime soon. Their hands fisted in each other's jackets, and it was nearly ten minutes before he pressed a final, slightly regretful kiss on the tip of Fai's chilled red nose.

Fai hadn't invited him in, and he wasn't going to invite himself. Slow. They were taking this slow.

His phone buzzed soon after he left. Text from Fuuma. It might be a request to grab something from the store on the way home, so he opened it up at a stoplight.

_Kamui just told me about the view of the front porch from the bedroom window. Nice, boss. Making congratulatory jello. Actually just making jello. But fuck yeah._

Kurogane let the phone drop onto the passenger seat with disgust. He was even more disgusted when he got back to find that Fuuma had somehow contrived a way to write “Congratulations” with grape jelly on top of a bowl of lime gelatin.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: a lot of conversations about gender identity and sexuality, and some kinda shitty parenting

 

_It’s hard to keep a straight face when I just want to smile_

_If you could see the look that’s in your eyes_

_Like starlight crashing through the room_

 

Kamui's hands were shaking when Subaru got into the car.

Subaru was quiet. He was always quiet after he finished therapy. Kamui didn't know why Subaru kept going when the only effect it seemed to have was to make him curl up in a ball of pain and grief for the rest of the day, so much so that Kamui drove him there to keep him from having to drive himself back. But it wasn't for Kamui to decide, their job was just to drive their twin home and make sure nobody bothered him. Be with him if he needed a body to cry on. Listen to him if he wanted to talk, which he rarely did.

“I want a milkshake,” Subaru said suddenly.

Kamui's hands were still shaking, and maybe they shouldn't drive that way. Also, what? A milkshake? It was thirty seven degrees Fahrenheit.

“Kamui? What's wrong?”

“I . . . Yeah, milkshakes,” they said. “I could use a milkshake. Sounds great. Where to, oh twin of mine?”

Subaru was staring at them, eyes soft and searching. “Kamui?”

They were totally a terrible person for doing this right after Subaru's therapy, but they honestly didn't feel like another day could go by without this conversation. It had been almost six weeks since they'd gotten home from the tour, and not talking about it wasn't helping. Everything just felt more mixed up, honestly. Kamui had spent so much of the last six weeks just . . . stuck. Stuck inside their own head, stuck inside their own fear. It had to stop, and they couldn't wait anymore.

“Let's, um. Let's find a place to sit down somewhere. I need to talk to you.”

Subaru requested Dairy Queen, and Kamui didn't know of one anywhere close to the therapy practice, so they headed toward the recording studio instead. There was one only a block away, and their car had a sticker to park in the studio lot so they wouldn't waste half the day looking for good parking.

Kamui led them to a table that was as far from whining kids as he could get them, with the previously discussed milkshake (strawberry) in hand. Subaru's original desire had somehow morphed into something covered in chunks of brownie and smothered in caramel sauce, and he had the first bite in his mouth almost before he was fully seated on a slightly-sticky plastic seat.

“Mmm,” he moaned. “God, I feel better already.”

Kamui focused on watching the level of the pink milkshake sink instead of looking at Subaru. “Are you okay? I can wait. This can wait.”

Subaru snorted. “This has been waiting too long already. Fuuma told me.”

Kamui didn't expect to feel so thoroughly betrayed by that. But really, it made sense. Fuuma had to have been confused as hell, and who else would he ask than Subaru? Embarrassingly, they felt tears gathering. Really? They were going to cry over fucking Fuuma ratting them out to their own twin that they never had a problem talking to before?

“He didn't tell me much, mind you,” Subaru added, shoveling a mouthful of chocolate and caramel and soft-serve into his mouth and leaving Kamui hanging for a good twenty seconds. “He just said you'd been texting him a lot, and he wasn't sure what was going on or how he could help.”

“What did you say?” Kamui mumbled, and tried not to think about how it felt to realize that Fuuma hadn't broken their confidence. It was just more evidence that Fuuma never had deserved the harsh way Kamui always treated him.

“I told him to wait until you were ready to talk and maybe not say anything for now. I don't even know what all you texted him.” Subaru's eyes were shrewd. “You picked him to talk to instead of me, so I guess that means you didn't want a conversation so much as a confessional.”

“I picked him because you were right,” Kamui said to the milkshake. “He's a good friend. And I am scared of him. Maybe this sounds weird, but I guess I just needed to know that I could talk to him, and then maybe it wouldn't be so hard to talk to other people.”

Subaru ate his ice cream quietly, waiting for more. Kamui opened up their cell phone and pulled up his texting history with Fuuma, and showed Subaru the one that had given him them enough courage to open their mouth today. Why Fuuma seemed to be the only one who could reassure them, they didn't know. Or maybe it _had_ to be Fuuma, in the end. Kamui knew better than to think all these years of doggedly following them around the country was anything but what Fuuma claimed it was: love. Kurogane had been right. Pretending it was anything less was cruel.

Subaru's eyes were soft as he took in Kamui's question ( _Would you hate me if I was a woman?_ ) and Fuuma's response ( _No of course not. I said I would always care about you. You'll always be my friend. You're not alone, okay?_ ), and when he looked up, he was smiling.

“That's what you want?” he asked. “I know the next few years are going to be really hard, but Kamui I'm so glad you figured out what—”

“No,” Kamui interrupted. “I don't. Um. I don't want that. I've been reading a lot. I figured out what the problem really was.”

“Okay,” Subaru said cautiously.

“It was just, like, assuming there were only two options.”

There was a flash of confusion, but Subaru nodded anyway.

“I'll show you the stuff I've been looking at online. It's, um, it's just that it's not true that there are only two genders and you have to exactly match one or the other. There's other things you can be, identify with, that aren't strictly in a binary.”

Subaru's face cleared. “That makes total sense,” he said warmly.

“You think so?” Kamui asked in relief, trying to hide in the milkshake again and finding it empty. “It seems like it's hard for a lot of people to understand, but I think, um, I think that's what I . . . I don't know what to call it. Just non-binary.”

Subaru nodded calmly, and reached over to squeeze Kamui's hand for a moment. “Okay. I just need to know what that's going to mean, if it means anything. Do you, like, want to change your name? Are you—do you want any kind of surgery? I just— do I still tell people you're my brother?” And abruptly, Subaru was crying. “Oh, god, Kamui, I'm so sorry, this is great and I'm really happy, okay?”

“I'm still your twin,” Kamui said, and found that they were also crying, not to mention that the shaking had returned to their hands, a fact discovered by trying to wipe the tears away before someone at another table could see them. “Subaru, don't— I'm your _twin_ , so tell people that.” The whole idea of losing Subaru in any way at all hadn't even occurred to them, and it was suddenly terrifying to think that anything would change their relationship. They wouldn't stop being twins because of this, Subaru had to see that.

Subaru nodded frantically, now gripping both of their hands. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Kamui didn't try to stop the shaking, feeling so relieved that all this poisonous doubt was being leeched out through those hands on theirs. “I don't want to change my name, or change my body, or anything like that. Not right now. I just. Don't want anyone to think I'm a man, or call me 'him' or things like that. I might start dressing a little differently, I think I want to. That doesn't bother you?”

Subaru's face was gravely serious. “I want you to do what makes you happy even if it bothered me. But no, of course it doesn't.”

Kamui had known they needed Subaru on their side, but his response to all this was better than they'd hoped for. Or maybe they just should have hoped for better than they had, because this was Subaru, after all. Emboldened, they continued. “I want to try doing some of the stuff I liked when I was a kid, again. The stuff you reminded me about. And I . . . I found this group therapy thing for people like me. I think I might need to go for a while. It's hard to feel like all of this is okay, for me to be doing this. I don't feel— I don't know, I don't feel  _good_ yet. I need— I  _want_ help.”

It was getting too hard to talk, with how much both of them were trying to keep themselves under control in public. Subaru pulled Kamui up and swept up their trash and led them to the car in a whirlwind of movement. “Come on, I want to go home so we can both just kinda let this out,” he said. “I really need to just hug you for a while. Kamui, I am so proud of you, do you know that?”

Kamui let Subaru drive. It was nice to just let all the relief wash over them.

“I want to tell a few people,” they said. “Like I said, I don't like hearing 'he' and 'him' and I want people not to say it.”

“What should we say instead?”

“Just 'they' is okay for now. That's neutral and I think it's easy for everybody. This is all kinda hard to figure out, you know? I think I'm aiming to be pretty androgynous, if I can. I don't know if that's the right word for what I want. That's part of the reason I feel like I want to go to this group thing. I kinda hope they just have some _words_ for all of this that I can actually use.”

“Who do you want to tell?”

Kamui shrugged. “You were the most important one. Will you, um, will you . . . help me? Tell Fai today? He should know.”

“The whole band should know,” Subaru said quietly. “But that's your decision.”

Kamui dug their fingernails into the skin of their opposite hand, almost hard enough to break the skin. “I want to, I'm just worried. If any of them think it's stupid or something . . . I really like being in the Paper Cranes, Subaru. I love it. I—they're our friends. I don't want to lose any of it.”

“Which one of them do you think is going to freak out, exactly?” Subaru asked, just a hint of dryness in his voice. “Yukito, right? Yukito is going to absolutely reject you with hate in his heart. And _Sakura,_ oh wow, she's going to just _lose it_ , I'm sure.”

Kamui snorted. “Okay, yeah, you made your point, you shithead.”

Subaru grabbed their hand and held it. Maybe to stop them from stabbing it with their own fingernails anymore. “It's up to you to decide if you really want to talk to them, and when. No pressure from me at all. Just help, if you want it. I'll be with you for every single person unless you don't want me to be.”

They were almost home, and now Kamui just themself cry. There had been too much holding back, and they were tired of trying to keep it all in.

“I don't know yet. Thank you.”

Subaru kept his eyes on the road but his hand was firm over his twin's. “I love you so much,” he murmured. “I'm always going to be here for you.”

Fai was in the kitchen when they came in, making cookies with his ever-present white apron tied on. He'd already made two batches of them in the past week, a spicy-sweet recipe that he claimed was a family Christmas tradition generations old. The cookies kept disappearing when the others came over for practice or writing sessions, hence the continual replenishment. (And, Kamui had to admit, they had personally accounted for at least a dozen of the things.)

Subaru looked like he wanted to hustle Kamui to the bedroom, but when Fai called out a greeting, they pulled out of Subaru's grip.

“No time like the present,” they murmured.

Fai took in the twins' slightly-watery faces and paused his work. “What's going on?”

Kamui took a deep breath. “You might have noticed that lately I haven't been very . . .”

“Happy?” Fai suggested. “Nice? Stable? Hungry? Confident? Well-rested?”

Kamui scowled at him, and Fai did that thing where you just couldn't fight him, pulling Kamui into an embrace so loving that you had to take it even if you weren't a hugging type of person.

“Whatever it is can't be worth torturing yourself like this,” Fai said. “Or telling yourself your friends can't be here for you. I'm here, okay?”

“I'm not a boy,” Kamui blurted out. “Not male-gendered.”

Fai patted their hair. “I suspected.”

“You . . . you did?”

“Mmm-hmm. The question is, are you gonna be okay?”

Subaru was his twin and all, was as much love as you could find in one person, but Kamui felt a little different in Fai's arms. Fai seemed so much more put-together than either of them, always had. More mature or experienced or something, or just better able to take on the world and win. Something about his hug felt like protection. So Kamui stayed there for a while, his face buried in the sweet-smelling apron, probably gluing them together with damp flour.

“I'm gonna be okay,” they said, muffled. “Thanks.”

“Have you decided what you'd like to be called?”

“Kamui,” they replied quickly.

Fai chuckled. “And what else?”

“They,” Subaru supplied. “Kamui would like to be non-binary, for now.”

“Ah, okay. They, them, theirself?”

Kamui unburied their face to frown at Fai. “How do you know so much about this?”

“Queer club at school,” he replied, unfazed. “Have you found some good resources? Did you see some of the other pronouns that are possible?”

“I like 'they'.”

“Okay, no problem,” Fai said, and dropped a surprising kiss to the top of Kamui's head. “I'm sorry that I've been misgendering you. I won't do it again.”

Kamui wanted to stay in the kitchen and help Fai bake. They didn't know why, exactly, just that it seemed safe and warm and simple. But Subaru needed them, too. Subaru had just been through a half-hour of talking out his own issues with his therapist, and then finding out that his twin's whole identity was shifting. Kamui should take Subaru to their room to get him some space.

But Subaru was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “Can we help?”

Kamui stared at him for a minute. Subaru didn't back down.

“Come on, I can fall apart just as easily later. Let's help Fai get this done so he's not late for work.”

“I don't have work today,” Fai said smugly. “Go away and fall apart.”

“You always work on Fridays.”

“Yeah, well, I took it off. I, uh. Have a date.”

Kamui smirked at him. “Another one already? Didn't you guys just go out for coffee on Tuesday?”

Fai gave him a look of grave importance. “Three dates in seven days is a perfectly normal number of dates, thank you.”

“Maybe they'll set a record tonight and go for a full twenty minutes on the front porch,” Kamui said to Subaru in very obvious _sotto voce_ before turning back to Fai.  “Is that where you were last night? Working to make up for not going in tonight?”

A strange look crossed Fai's face. “Yeah,” he said.

He was lying. Kamui didn't know why he would do that, but he was lying. Where had he been yesterday?

 

* * *

 

_(six years and one month ago)_

 

Subaru was watching internet videos in his room, fingering his guitar strings to try to copy what he was seeing. His mother was still paying for their guitar lessons, but their guitar teacher either didn't consider the Lord of the Rings movie soundtracks to be suitable material or how no idea how to teach them. Subaru's softly-voiced wish to learn a few weeks ago had gotten no attention whatsoever.

Kamui was more interested in learning how to play ripping rock solos from the seventies and eighties, which he was learning off Youtube tutorials just like Subaru. They were both very good guitarists, not to mention singers, but Kamui was _fast_ and _powerful_ where Subaru was only skilled. Kamui had this passion in it that Subaru couldn't seem to get at. It was like he and the music understood each other.

At least someone understood Kamui, Subaru thought wistfully. Nobody else seemed to.

Raised voices in the hallway made him wince. He debated between turning up the volume, putting on headphones, or just listening to the fight. Kamui and Mom argued all the time, but lately it had taken on this kind of vicious edge that made Subaru worry.

Staying out of the way seemed like the best idea, usually. Which wasn't hard. Mom's policy since he was about four was to ignore him as much as possible. He eavesdropped a lot and should probably feel guilty about it, but didn't. It was the only way to navigate a safe pathway through this house. Once he'd overheard Mom and Dad talking pretty late at night, when he and Kamui were supposedly asleep, about what to  _do_ with Subaru. Like something needed to be done with him? Actually it was mostly just Mom talking. Dad hardly ever had anything to say. Mom had said out loud that she didn't know where Subaru had come from.

He had been, very briefly, tempted to stick his head in and remind her that she'd popped him out less than ten minutes before Kamui. He had gone back to bed instead. Staying out of the way, that was his thing.

Kamui took a different approach. The kind where he confronted her about everything in the world and they shouted themselves hoarse and then retreated to lick their wounds. Subaru didn't know why he wasted so much energy on it. Kamui did everything she wanted, in the end.

“Acting?” she screeched, right outside Subaru's door. He jumped.

“Yes, Mother, acting. On the _stage_.”

“Oh, for heaven's _sake_ , Kamui. I could understand if you took an interest in movie acting. There's fame and money if you can get a break. But stage acting? I might expect something like that of your brother, but I would have hoped that you'd have a more clever ambition.”

“Subaru? Are you kidding? Oh, _geez_ Mom, _seriously_? Because only _gay_ people are stage actors, right? Or do you just think that Subaru is only good for so much and I can do better?”

Subaru pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. It was fine. This was fine. He wasn't going to cry. He didn't care what Mom thought. He didn't.

“Do you have a _problem_ with my brother?” Kamui was snarling, and his fist hit the wall right beside Subaru's door.

“I do not. Calm down right now, young man. You can be headstrong all you want, but don't you dare raise your hand or your voice to your mother.”

“I wasn't going to hit you,” Kamui said, as though it was funny. “Mom, come on.”

“Are you settled? Good. Now listen: if you want to be successful as a stage actor, then you have to work your butt off for years doing bit parts and sucking up to directors. It'll be years before it makes you any money, before anyone notices you.”

“Yeah?” he said challengingly.

Mom chuckled. “So you're prepared for that.”

Subaru could just see the look on Kamui's face. Fifteen years old and already so sure of himself. He probably was crossing his arms over his chest and smirking at her.

“Yeah, I am. I'm talented. I can sing and dance and play guitar and I am, believe it or not, a good actor. At least according to the drama teacher. I can do stuff with those talents, Mom. I don't have to go into business to be successful.”

“I know that,” she said, sounding fond all of a sudden. It made Subaru feel bile in his throat. He couldn't stand the way the two of them were with one another. Like all the yelling and posturing and pride was what they actually liked about each other or something. “So, fine. Try out for the play. Prove to me that you have the talent and inclination. Do that, and you may continue to participate in drama during school. And _then_ if you've proved to me that it can hold your interest and you are willing to keep working hard, I will consider paying for a degree in theater.”

Kamui was silent for a moment. “I didn't say I wanted you to pay for a degree in theater, Mom. Geez, what is with you? Do I have to be thinking about my damn future all the time? Did you think that sometimes I just want to do something for  _fun_ ? I just asked if I could try out for the damn  _school play_ .”

“Don't swear at me, young man.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“You may try out for the play. You may also go to your room and think until dinner about the proper way to apologize for being disrespectful. I'm not done talking about whether or not you have a future in this, but I will defer it until this spring when the play is over.”

“Oh my god, Mom. You are impossible.”

“Go to your room, Kamui.”

“Can I go to Subaru's room instead? We're supposed to practice a piece for our guitar teacher.”

Subaru couldn't hear, but he just knew she was sighing dramatically. And then her footsteps retreated down the hallway, and Kamui opened his door.

“I would have knocked, but I knew you were listening,” he announced.

Subaru glared at him until he had to blink and it released the held-back tears.

“Aw, come on,” Kamui said softly, closing the door and hurrying across the room to him. “Don't listen to her, Subaru, you know better.”

“I don't get you guys,” he sniffled as he let Kamui hug him.

“Yeah, I know. Don't worry about it, okay? You know as soon as we turn eighteen we can just stop dealing with her.”

Subaru had been worried since they were small children that there would never be a day where the shadow of their mother didn't haunt Kamui. But he could never say that to his twin. Today, he just re-started the video he was watching and tried not to feel jealous when Kamui got it perfect on the second repetition.

 

* * *

 

Fuuma had borrowed one of the acoustic guitars for a couple of days, saying cheerfully that he was going to learn how to play a little bit, just to fit in better with the crowd. It was generally true. He had started to wish recently that he understand what made his friends all crave it and come back to it and give years of their lives to it. 'It' being music. Guitar seemed the easiest place to start.

But apparently Kurogane's healing and grieving process hadn't recovered quite enough to handle a guitar in his apartment, and he kept leaving anytime Fuuma dragged it out. He said it wasn't a big deal and it wasn't exactly skin off his nose to hang out with Touya and Yukito for an hour or two if Fuuma wanted to practice. But Fuuma felt bad about it, and he was _so_ not wanting to be the reason that Kurogane fell off the wagon or something. For one thing, Touya could take Fuuma _out_. And if he couldn't do it on his own, Fuuma had his suspicions that the ex-boyfriend would help.

That was how he'd wound up here, in a belching contest with Sakura that he appeared to be losing.

Well, actually, he'd come to bring back the guitar and thank Subaru for letting him borrow it and see if it would bother them too much if he practiced here at their place instead. (Side benefit: scoring free lessons from professionals.) But then he'd accepted the soda that Sakura had lobbed at him, and they'd given each other one of those challenging looks, and he'd won the chugging contest.

She was beating him in the belching contest though. He always had liked this girl.

Kamui was sitting off to the side looking kind of sickened while Subaru buried his face in his arms and laughed helplessly. Touya and Yukito were here, too, frowning together over a keyboard and discussing some finer point of Touya's contribution to the song they were working on. They were ignoring the whole thing completely. Probably they were used to Sakura by now.

Fai had disappeared around fifteen minutes ago. He said he wanted to get some snacks ready before their guest arrived.

This whole “guest” thing was apparently making things a little tense, Fuuma gathered. Fai had said they might need to add a new member to the band, and he asked if everyone was willing to keep an open mind and meet his friend and talk it over before passing judgement. Touya and Yukito had been blasé about the whole thing, saying bring the friend over to jam during practice so they could see how well they fit in. Sakura, ever the sweetheart, said she was looking forward to meeting them.

Kamui and Subaru weren't very happy about it. Fuuma obviously had no say in what the band did and he supposed he should probably agree with the majority or whatever. But hey, it was the twins that he'd been friends with since they were in high school and it was their opinion that really counted with him. He was fully prepared to dislike this person for making them uncomfortable.

Honestly, he probably shouldn't even be here for the first meeting. He wasn't a member of the band. Yeah, he should go.

He couldn't seem to make himself do it, though. He had spent too much of his time these past couple of months worrying about Kamui, and now he didn't want to leave them feeling ganged up on in a moment that was causing them so much anxiety.

Kamui had told him about the whole gender thing just a few days ago, and seemed kind of surprised when Fuuma didn't freak out about it. Seriously, though, he didn't get why he would freak. Yeah, it might change a few things, but so what? Kamui had stopped pushing him away all the time, so that couldn't be anything but good, right? Kamui was allowed to be whatever they wanted to be, and so far it was just making the two of them closer. Like real actual friends. He wanted that way more than he wanted a fulfillment of any fantasy he'd ever had about them as a couple.

So now everyone in the band, plus Fuuma, knew that Kamui was “they” and things had been better. Everyone had been really nice about it, and apparently a couple of them even apologized for every time they had inadvertently made Kamui feel uncomfortable. Kamui had been more relaxed, started sleeping better. Everything was going swimmingly until Fai announced that he wanted them to think about bringing in a new musician.

Kamui was right back on edge. They weren't showing it, Fuuma thought, eyeing his friend critically. They looked better than they had in weeks. They'd even been experimenting a little bit, wearing more makeup than they ever had before, at least offstage. The clothes hadn't changed much yet, even though they said they might try wearing more feminine stuff soon. But he knew they were nervous as hell and unhappy about Fai's timing, because the two of them texted a lot now and Kamui had told him so.

“Yo, Fuuma, you okay?” Sakura asked him suddenly.

He'd forgotten they were in a belch-off.

“Yeah,” he said hurriedly, looking away from Kamui before he could get accused of being creepy. “I was just thinking I should probably get out of here before Fai's buddy comes by.”

“You should stay,” Subaru said immediately. Fuuma could tell he was saying it on Kamui's behalf, because Kamui's hands were tight with tension on their guitar. “Hell, Kurogane should be here,” he joked.

“That is not a good idea,” Yukito blurted out before realizing Subaru was kidding.

Sakura was nodding, though, taking it just as seriously. “We do kinda treat him like a band member a lot, I think it might be kinda pushing him too hard.”

“Aren't him and Fai like, sucking face ninety percent of the time these days?” Fuuma asked in surprise. “It would make more sense for him to be here than me right now. Seriously, I'm gonna get going. You guys have fun with your meeting-jam-session-thing.”

Fai pushed open the door with his foot and shoved a tray into Fuuma's hands. He looked down at cheese, crackers, and vegetables with some sort of dip and wondered how this had taken Fai such a long time when he could have been in here getting made fun of for kissing too much. Fai said, “Put that somewhere, I gotta go get the door.”

“Okay, his friend's here,” Fuuma said inanely, attempting to put the tray on top of the shelf full of music books.

Kamui took the tray from him and rolled their eyes. “We have a table, moron.”

Fuuma gestured helplessly at the small table, which was covered in papers. “I didn't want to put it on top of your . . . stuff.”

Kamui just rolled their eyes again as Subaru moved to stack all the musical notations and lyrics into a tidy pile. Fuuma made a face at them and dodged a kick at his ankle. He pouted. “So mean.” Not much had changed, he thought happily. All must be righting itself in the world if they could safely behave like asses toward each other again.

And then this girl walked in. Fuuma noticed when it happened because Sakura accidentally kicked her cymbal pedal out of shock or something, and the girl's entrance was accompanied by the loud clang. Fai was right behind her, smiling his best we're-all-professionals-here smile.

“Hey, everybody. This is Tomoyo. Tomoyo, meet the Paper Cranes. And Fuuma.”

Everybody was kind of lost, for a few seconds. She was petite and pretty and sweet-looking and very _young_. Everybody had kind of been expecting maybe a friend of Fai's from school or something, and they'd all been racking their brains trying to think of what instrument he seemed to think was missing from the band. Now here was this adorable thing with long hair and a violin case, wearing a frilly fitted blouse and looking like one of those girls who literally lived in high heels and probably went to finishing school.

“Yeah, Fuuma is me,” he volunteered, abruptly. “I just do lights and sound.”

She immediately blossomed with warmth and shook his head. “It's nice to meet you, Fuuma. Nice to meet all of you, of course. Fuuma, I know how important your job is, don't downplay yourself, okay? Oh, Fai, where can I set this down?”

Fai gallantly took the violin case from her and put it against the wall by Sakura and her drum set. Sakura was kinda still just staring at the girl. Who was unbelievable, so Fuuma didn't blame her. She was the kind of girl he was usually terrified of, but she was so _nice_.

Touya and Yukito were doing that married thing, when they did stuff simultaneously and as a unit. Fuuma wasn't sure if they knew they did that, did it on purpose, or what. They came forward at the same time, introduced themselves together, and welcomed her to their practice. Fuuma was still standing close enough to Kamui that he could nudge them and get them moving before it became too obvious that they were holding back.

“I'm Kamui,” they said, not meeting her eyes as they shook hands. That seemed to be all Kamui could manage or all they could think of to say, and Fuuma wondered if he could put a hand on their shoulder to be supportive without getting it bitten off.

“And I'm their twin brother, Subaru.” Leave it to Subaru to draw it out into the open so subtly and with the burden of it falling more on him.

Tomoyo's brow knit together for a moment as if looking for the extra party in the room Subaru was referring to, then it smoothed out into a pleasant smile once more. “Oh, singular 'their' of course,” she said happily. “Sure, it's nice to meet you, Kamui, Subaru.”

She turned her eyes toward the back, where Sakura was still sitting at her drum set, and she seemed to become just a little more shy, suddenly. Maybe she wasn't as confident as she looked, and was just responding to them. Sakura wasn't making it easy.

“Oi, brat,” her brother drawled lazily. “You might want to like, stand up for a second or something.”

“Yes, I definitely want to do that,” Sakura said mechanically, her eyes just locked on this new girl. “I'm Sakura,” she said, holding out her hand and her cheeks suffused with pink. Wow, Fuuma had never seen her get so embarrassed. Was it some kind of weird girl thing he didn't understand? Was it weirder for two girls to meet each other or something?

“I'm Tomoyo,” the dark-haired girl said.

“Yeah, Fai said— oh, sorry, it's um, it's so nice to meet you. So you play violin?”

“I do, yes.”

“I'm the drummer.” Yeah, no shit, Sakura. “Wow, I never thought of having a violinist in the band. I'm really looking forward to giving this a try.”

“Me, too,” Tomoyo said in a rush. “When Fai said you might be looking to do this, I was just so excited to get the chance to meet you. Um. To meet all of you.”

Fai was over there looking like he was going to die any second now, for some reason. He had that expression that said he was only holding back his laughter because he knew better.

“All right, everybody,” he said cheerfully. “Let's get Tomoyo a seat, let's grab some munchies, and let's talk about some of the ideas I've had for Tomoyo's role in the band . . . Fuuma, if you're going to stick around, can you be helpful and get everybody something to drink?”

“Yeah, sure,” he muttered. Kamui was looking less desperate, but he was already here so now it would seem rude if he left, right?

He spent the next two hours just scuttling around the edges of the room and being very impressed by things he didn't understand. Tomoyo got out her violin and played a little bit, and Kamui was the one who made it immediately obvious that she really might be one of the Paper Cranes. They grabbed their guitar and started playing right alongside her, improvising their way through it, and the two of them went on together for a couple of minutes before suddenly Yukito jumped in with a steady grooving beat that supported the whole thing really well.

Fai was rasping something almost under his breath, bobbing his head, his fingers picking at some instrument that seemed to be in his own head. Touya and Subaru didn't seem to have any ideas yet, and they were just watching, but Sakura started skittering out some quiet little accompaniment. It was starting to sound like a song.

The big hit was probably when Tomoyo asked shyly if Sakura would play something heavy and hard, just make something up, and Sakura obliged with a riff off her Pinocchio solo. Tomoyo stood up and started grinding out this fast, pulsing thing, and that was when Touya and Fai started grinning like lunatics at each other.

“Okay, yeah, now we've got something,” Touya said happily. “You have got some serious stage presence, sweetheart.”

Tomoyo stopped, wiping at the beginnings of sweat on her forehead, and pointed her bow at him. “Number one, I would appreciate it if you wouldn't call me sweetheart. Number two, of  _course_ I have stage presence, I'm a  _performer_ .”

“She's a dancer, actually,” Fai said with a laugh. “She's been with the Joffrey Ballet for over a year, now.”

“Wait, you're a ballerina?”

Tomoyo gave Touya a very challenging look. Then she slowly leaned forward, balancing herself on one leg as she drew the other up behind her. Fuuma found himself holding his breath as she lifted her arms up in an arch, and then, somehow, she had made herself into one graceful curve with her arms and one leg over her head. She was holding her entire body on the ball of one foot, like she would any moment lift onto her toes. Fuuma was unaware the human body could even do that and gaped like a dumb shit. He had nothing on Sakura, though.

Sakura had been attempting to prove that she was not as surprised as Touya about the whole thing, and had gone for a nonchalant sip of her drink. And missed her mouth. Soda cascaded down the front of her white t-shirt while she gawked. It took her a full minute to even notice the shirt plastered to her chest and dyed lurid orange, despite the fact that Tomoyo had reverted to a normal human form and everyone was staring at Sakura instead.

“Um,” she squeaked, looking down at her chest. “Oops?”

Yukito's hand was plastered onto Touya's mouth. Touya looked like he was in pain from trying to hold back his laughter. Fuuma understood the feeling.

“Fai, can I use your bathroom?” Sakura said, already jolting up and hurrying for the door.

“The other one is closer,” he said, grabbing her elbow. “And cleaner. Sorry, twins, we're borrowing yours!”

Subaru looked like he wanted to follow them and help, but instead he played the part of getting things back to normal and less awkward. He smiled and started asking Tomoyo questions about her dancing career and gradually coaxed Touya back from the brink of laughing his head off at his baby sister and into working on a song with Tomoyo. Fuuma was impressed. He knew Subaru had hidden depths, but it was always fun to see him take charge.

Eventually Sakura turned up sheepishly in one of Fai's t-shirts and they got back to making music.

It wasn't until Kurogane turned up that Fuuma remembered he had Kurogane's car and should probably not have kept it for three hours unexpectedly and ignored phone calls in favor of watching Sakura be klutzy in front of the ballerina.

“How did you even get here?” he asked stupidly, having been sent to answer the doorbell so the others could keep working.

“Touya's dumb shit friend Eriol dropped me off,” Kurogane said.

Fuuma winced. He'd heard about Touya's dumb shit friend before. Apparently Kurogane was not a fan. “Sorry, boss,” he said. “But hey, you're at your boyfriend's house for a surprise visit, yayyyyy.”

Kurogane rolled his eyes. “Three dates. Not my boyfriend.”

“Still only three?”

Kurogane shrugged. “Guess he's been getting called into work at the bar a lot. Anyway, I just had Eriol drive by here to see if the car was here, which it is, so now you get to go on errands with me, yayyyy.” Fuuma did not appreciate the mocking imitation. He was so much cuter than Kurogane when he said it. “But since I'm here and all, I should . . .” He frowned, his attention focused on the noise coming from deeper in the house. “Is Fai playing violin now? Is that a thing?”

“Ah, nope. Tiny cute Asian girl that is a friend of his is playing the violin, which is apparently a thing. Also Sakura dumped a soda on her own chest when the tiny cute girl was showing off, so we either have the beginnings of a great friendship or a jealous rivalry brewing. Maybe we'll have some kind of final death match because there's only room for one girl in this band and Sakura isn't going to stand for the pretty pretty princess.”

Kurogane looked less than thrilled about the whole thing, and he ignored most of Fuuma's commentary. “I'm not gonna interrupt them. If you want to stay, feel free, but Touya's got to drop you off because I'm taking the car.”

“Naw, I've been here playing butler for like three hours,” he shrugged. “I can play chauffeur instead.”

“Who's playing chauffeur? It's my car.”

Fuuma grinned. “Chauffeurs drive the bosses' cars because the bosses are too important to drive themselves.”

“Right. Well, go tell them you're leaving or something then.”

Fai's head poked out from around the corner. “Fuuma, who was—oh. Hi.”

“Don't sound so enthusiastic,” Kurogane drawled.

Fai came rushing across the room to throw himself dramatically onto Kurogane's chest. “Darling,” he simpered. “You've come at last. I've missed you so.” He grinned up at Kurogane. “Is that better?”

“You're such a moron,” Kurogane scoffed, and then there was kissing and Fuuma decided he was with Kamui on the whole did-not-need-to-see-that thing when it came to the bosses kissing. Ew.

“Get a room,” he muttered.

“It's my house,” Fai said cheerfully, grabbing a handful of Kurogane's ass and squeezing just to drive the point home.

Kurogane yelped and shoved Fai back. “Don't do that, weirdo!”

“Tiny cute Asian girl alert!” Fuuma said, chipper. He _could_ have told them that Tomoyo had made an entrance _before_ the butt grab, but where would be the fun in that?

Kurogane whirled around with a look of panic on his face, but Tomoyo just wiggled her fingers in a cutesy greeting. She was pretty chill, Fuuma thought. Maybe she'd be good for the band after all.

“Fai, I have to get going. I have a show tonight.”

“Okay,” he said, coming over to give her a hug. “Thanks for coming. You had fun?”

“I had fun,” she confirmed, and her smile seemed genuine.

“Okay. We have a lot to talk about, obviously . . .”

“The band needs to talk about me, you mean,” she said with a little laugh. “Which is fine. I'm really booked until after Christmas, so there's no rush on any of us making a decision. Take your time.”

“Thanks, love,” Fai said warmly, and then they air-kissed.

“You get really gay when you're dating a boy, did you know that?” Tomoyo laughed, and tugged a lock of his hair teasingly.

He looked serious at that. “About that . . .”

She mimed zipping her lips shut. “I know nothing.”

“Good girl.”

“What are your plans for Thanksgiving, by the way? Ashura and Mom are getting a group from the orchestra to volunteer at a soup kitchen and then come to our place for some dessert and coffee and wine. You want to join us?”

That made Kurogane glare at Fai, but Fai turned back to Tomoyo with a bland smile. “Ah, I'd love to, but I've already got plans. Thanks. Tell your mom I'm not responsible for corrupting you, okay?”

“Are you kidding?” Tomoyo said, sounding scandalized. “Mom has no idea about any of this. I do not need to spend Thanksgiving getting the third degree over making up my mind and being responsible and mature. I'm not telling her I tried out for a band, I'm telling her I ran into you at the grocery store.”

Fai laughed. “Okay, fine. I'll call you, love. Have a fun holiday.”

“Bye. Fuuma, nice to meet you. Fai's arm candy, sorry to run before meeting you properly.”

Kurogane bristled, but she was gracefully sweeping past him already and leaving him looking about as useful as a wet match.

“I like this girl,” Fuuma grinned.

“Shut the fuck up, Fuuma,” Kurogane muttered.

Everyone else was starting to trickle out of the studio room, Sakura and Subaru carrying the dishes and leftover snacks.

“Speaking of Thanksgiving,” Fuuma spoke up, “um. That's in like three days, right?” He usually spent a lot of energy not thinking about how he wasn't welcome at home. He wasn't very excited about the possibility of spending Thursday alone in the apartment playing video games and pretending he didn't care if Kakyo was sitting in his spot at the dinner table.

“Everybody's coming home with us,” Sakura said firmly. “My dad is already putting the extra leaf in the dining table, you do not have a choice. There will be friends stopping by all day, but the band is required to be there for actual dinner. Yes, Fuuma, that includes you. If any of you make my dad sad by not coming to Thanksgiving dinner, I don't know you.”

“See, you're not getting out of this,” Kurogane said, back to glaring at Fai.

Fai spread his hands to the room at large in an apologetic gesture. “I told work that I'd come in that day. I wanted to make sure as many people can be home with their families as possible, so me and one other girl plus the cook are going to try to handle the whole day.”

“And why isn't it important for you to get to hang out with us?” Sakura asked, hands on her hips, looking dangerous.

“I get to be with you guys all the time,” he protested.

“Dad is going to lose his mind,” Touya said. “He has been asking when he gets to meet you for like, three years. He's met the twins, you know. _They've_ been over.”

Fai made a helpless, whining noise.

“Fine,” Touya said grumpily. “But you're coming to the ugly Christmas sweater party at my place even if we have to tie you up and carry you.”

Fai promised he would make sure to come to that, and everything seemed fine except for Kurogane. Fuuma watched him. He kept looking at Fai with narrow eyes, completely unappeased. Something was going on, there. Fuuma didn't know what, and it was hard to get the boss to talk about shit like that. He'd just have to keep an eye on things.

. . . he really didn't know when he turned into the group's den mother. He really needed less messy friends.

 

* * *

 

_(seven years ago)_

 

“Hey,” Syaoran said as she entered the room.

“Ugh,” she answered, throwing her bag on the floor and flopping onto her back on the bed.

“That bad?” he asked without much concern, not raising his eyes from the book he was reading. Some fantasy novel. He went through about one every week, lately.

She wriggled upward on the bed until she could pillow her head against his leg. Usually they left school at the same time, but now that she was in band she would be staying at the school for an extra hour and change. Her first day and already she didn't like it, so this whole thing where she came home to find her best friend waiting for her in her room was nice.

“It's just, there's this girl,” Sakura said, throwing an arm over her eyes so she wouldn't have to make eye contact. “She's so . . . I don't know. Pretty and perfect and stuff. She plays the flute for the band. Her nails are perfect and she has cute hair and cute clothes and just . . . it was really awkward.”

“Awkward? How come?” The rustling noise signalled that he was putting the book down to focus on her. That was nice, too. Syaoran was always like that, though. She knew a lot of people didn't see him for who he was. He was never good at focusing in class and he had a short fuse on his temper, so he was always getting into trouble. But he was one of the sweetest people she'd ever met. Maybe it was because Kurogane had done so much of the work of raising him, or maybe he was just born that way. She just knew that people saw him all wrong. He was generous and respectful and easily embarrassed and warm.

She kind of liked that she got to have so much of that to herself, which was too embarrassing to admit.

“I don't know. I'm not girly, you know? I just. I'm athletic and I play drums and I like dressing kind of boyish sometimes and I like hanging out with girls but I'm just not good at being a girl. Or something.”

Syaoran suddenly scooted down so he was laying next to her. He plucked her arm away so he could look at her seriously. “Was the other girl making fun of you?”

“Not—not so you could call her out on it. But yeah.”

“You know that there are exactly zero rules for how to be a girl, right? You just are one if you say you're one, and everybody can go to hell if they don't like it.”

His eyes were all fierce, like he was ready to get in a fight on her behalf. Again, he got in a lot of trouble at school. He wasn't very good at holding himself back when he thought something was worth fighting about. He'd rather be in trouble than let a problem exist. It had caused Kurogane so much stress, poor guy. Lydia might be the one who got the phone calls, but Kurogane was the one who worried about Syaoran's suspension record and his grades, the one who talked to him about his problems to find out if he could help—and got yelled at by Lydia for setting a bad example all the time. Even though he was twenty and he'd moved out, she still treated him that way.

She'd been overhearing some hushed conversations between Touya and Yukito, about how Kurogane was really stressed lately and not sleeping well, about how he was drinking too much to cope with it and wouldn't listen anymore, about how the band wouldn't make it if he wasn't healthy and focused. They'd been through three drummers already because nobody wanted to stay and work with the temperamental lead singer and guitarist. Maybe it was selfish, but she didn't want to think about it right now. She just wanted to lay here with Syaoran and feel reassured that there was nothing wrong with her.

She smiled at him, feeling warm all over because of how much he cared about her. “Yeah, I know.”

“You're perfect the way you are.”

“You sound like Dad.”

Syaoran made a face, but he was smiling. “It's still true.”

“Where is Dad, by the way?”

“Uh, he had to work late. He called me and said to tell you. He said he'll stop and get something for dinner on the way home.”

Syaoran and Kurogane had both had a key to the Kinomoto house practically since day one, so Sakura didn't need to ask how he'd gotten inside. He tended to come over here instead of going home whenever he could. He didn't want to be around his mom much, anymore.

“I was thinking, maybe you and I could try to cook, though?” Syaoran said hopefully. “I know it's your dad's turn, but still.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sakura said, beaming at him. Syaoran could hardly help his own upbringing, and he'd changed a lot over the past few years. He actually looked for ways to make Dad's life easier after recognizing how hard it was to raise a kid. It had taken the two of them getting a little older to see what Dad and Touya had always seen, that his own mother wasn't really much of a parent and Kurogane was the one who'd been raising him. Syaoran spent a lot of time looking for ways to make Kurogane's life easier too.

“But if you're tired, I can try to figure it out,” he added.

“You'll probably just burn down the kitchen,” she said, rolling her eyes and moving to sit up.

He trapped her against his chest with an arm thrown across her shoulders from behind. “Hey. You sure you're okay? You're beautiful, you know.”

All her breath left her in a whoosh. Things had started to be weird between them, but she had been wondering if that was just her. Syaoran had never been afraid to say nice things to her. She didn't know how to interpret a boy telling her she was beautiful. They were fourteen. Maybe he meant beautiful person, and maybe he was trying to tell her that he was into her. She couldn't tell. It was making her really nervous, lately.

“Syaoran? Do you . . . um.”

Oh god this was so embarrassing. How did you even ask a question like this? Especially when the person you were talking to was holding you like this?

“It's okay,” he said softly. “Ask me anything.”

“Do you really think I'm beautiful?”

He was quiet for too long. She wriggled out of his grip and tried to run away, but he grabbed her hand and held her like that. They both looked at the ground, their cheeks pink while he sat on the edge of the bed and held her standing beside him.

“You want to know if that girl might think you're beautiful, right? Isn't that what you want to ask?”

“What do you mean?” she asked helplessly, but her mouth was dry.

“I don't know. You just . . . you talk about other girls a lot. About how pretty they are. You always notice when a girl's got nice hair or cute clothes or something. And I know you had a huge crush on the health teacher last year, you can't even deny that after you followed her around and blushed all the time and tried to grow your hair out like hers. So. Um. You can tell me if I'm wrong, but . . . you _are_ into girls, aren't you?”

Sakura swallowed down hard on the lump in her throat. Syaoran was her best friend, and he wasn't dumb, so maybe she should have known that he'd see it. “Is 'maybe' an answer?” she blurted out.

He squeezed her hand. “Yeah, that's an answer. It's okay, Sakura.”

“Is it?” she asked desperately. “Syaoran, you . . . you _like_ me, right?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I always have. I'm really sorry if that's weird. We can still be friends, can't we?”

“But Syaoran,” she said, trying to tell herself that the rapid thumping of her heart did not mean she was having some kind of medical emergency. “I, um. I like you, too.”

He looked up at her, hope flashing in his eyes. “But I thought that you . . .”

She snorted. “And you're gonna tell me that you're not at least  _probably_ bisexual, right?”

He flushed deeply and let go of her hand.

She sat back down beside him on the bed, and suddenly felt herself laughing. “You and I are a total disaster,” she giggled.

“Ugh,” he muttered.

“If I like you and if you like me then . . . it's okay, isn't it? Even if I think I might, you know, might like girls, I like you more than any of that.”

“Sakura, I— yeah. If that's the way you feel, but I just want you to be happy.”

“Even if that meant I was with, you know, with a girl and not you?”

“You're my best friend, Sakura. I love you no matter what. If you want to be with me, I'd be the luckiest guy ever. But if you can't, then I'll still be your friend. I want you to be happy more than anything.”

“I'm happy with you,” she whispered, and felt her cheeks wet with tears. “I'm _always_ happy with you. I'd rather be with you than anyone else.”

Their first kiss was terrible. It was nothing like practice-kissing in the mirror. They puckered their lips too much and it was dry and they sort of just breathed on each other and twisted their lips around into different shapes. Sakura broke away first, giggling again. She shoved him down flat onto his back on the bed.

“I think we need to practice that,” she laughed.

“A lot,” he said with wide eyes. “We need _so much practice_.”

“Oh my god, do not start being perverted or something. Besides, we're supposed to be cooking dinner for my dad. Come on, let's go see what's in the fridge.”

“But Sakura,” he whined. “I'm allowed to kiss you now. All other things can wait.”

She kicked him right square in the butt as she waved him out of her bedroom. “Give me a break, we're fourteen, we have like sixty years for kissing and my dad will probably be home in half an hour.”

“Sixty years, huh?”

She blushed and the shyness came back. “Well, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself.”

“Naw,” he said softly, blushing just as brightly. “Maybe not.”

 

* * *

 

“So I said, 'What kind of name is Apocalypse Now if you're just going to sing sappy ballads about a girl who's not interested all the time?' and he says, 'It's ironic, hipsters love ironic shit.' I swear this is his plan. This is the whole plan. Record sappy indie hispter love songs and get them played in coffee shops all over the country in the hopes that this girl he met at summer camp five years ago will hear it and come find him.”

Touya was regaling them with the tale of yet another weirdo he was working with. In addition to giving piano lessons, he was working as a studio artist for Piffle and doing keyboard work for a lot of their musicians.

“Apocalypse Now, have mercy,” Fai gasped, wiping the corners of his eyes. He had some kind of chest cold, and apparently laughing was painful. He wheezed. “I have to meet this guy. What was his name?”

“Sorata. You probably will. Hell, he'll probably ask you to play the glockenspiel or something for one of his songs. Everyone at Piffle knows you play nonsense instruments and are totally full of weirdo indie hipster bullshit.”

Yukito couldn't help smirking at him. “Dear, far be it from me to ruin your moment, but your favorite accessory is a pair of leather suspenders and you are wearing them right now. You are absolutely the last person who should be passing judgement on indie hipster bullshit.”

“Traitor,” Touya muttered as Fai wheezed and pounded at his chest again. Yukito tried not to feel overly-concerned, but it was hard not to. “Fuck, Fai, go to a doctor, would you?”

Fai nodded, but he was still chuckling. “I had a really busy weekend at the bar, sorry, I'm just really worn out. I just need some sleep and some o.j. I'll go to the doctor if I don't feel better in a day or two, okay?”

Touya gave him the Big Brother Look, but Fai wasn't easily intimidated, so he had to give up and just say, “Okay.” Yukito was never sure whether to feel entertained or worried when the two of them got like this. Everybody else just caved in to Touya's genuine care and concern—gruff as it tended to be—but Fai had this thing about personal space. Kurogane was always into people's business too, so Yukito had no idea how that worked. Maybe Fai was less defensive with Kurogane.

“You have been busy,” Yukito observed. “Kurogane keeps complaining that he hardly ever sees you.”

Fai grimaced and looked down into the hot chocolate he was drinking. “Rub salt in that wound, why don't you.”

“What wound? Have you guys had a fight?” Yukito asked, concerned.

Fai crossed his arms. “Kurogane's weird codependency with you two aside, none of your business.”

“They totally had a fight, but it was about Thanksgiving,” Touya drawled, sipping at an Americano. “And we're not codependent. We're friends. Friends talk when they have problems, hard as that might be to believe.”

“He told you about our fight?” Fai asked, eyes snapping with anger.

“No, I could just tell you had one,” Touya said calmly. “Also, none of us believed you really had to work the whole day, that was a shitty lie.”

Fai hunched over, and Yukito suddenly felt bad that they were ganging up on him. They'd thought he was doing better, lately. He'd seemed to be more stable as soon as they got back from the tour, and Kamui and Subaru had said he was barely drinking at all anymore. Whatever was going on with him lately was something else. Maybe they ought to give him the space he seemed to want.

“Okay, yeah, there's more than that . . . it's just. Okay, I'm going to sound like a little kid, but I miss my mom. The holidays are hitting me pretty hard this year. I don't know what's different. I think the first year was easier because I hadn't even totally accepted that she was gone yet. And then the past couple of years, I've been pouring so much time and energy into building the band that I . . . yeah. This year is just bad for me. I guess I just need some space.”

Yukito scooted around the table, abandoning his cappuccino and ignoring the winces from the other customers as he scraped the chair over the floor. He put his arm firmly around Fai's waist and shielded him while he dropped his head and breathed slow and deep. He could understand not wanting to cry in the middle of a crowded coffee shop in December.

“Sorry,” Fai muttered.

“Don't be sorry. I'm glad you said something. You don't need to keep things like that to yourself.”

Yukito looked over and saw Touya visibly relaxing. Which shouldn't be funny and cute, but it kind of was and _god_ did he ever love this man. Touya could barely sleep if someone he cared about was struggling, and he already felt better just knowing what the problem was. It was cute and Yukito loved him for it.

“Is that why you're keeping yourself so busy?”

Fai nodded.

“Is it really overstepping my bounds to ask why you couldn't talk to Kurogane?” Yukito asked gently. It probably was.

“It seemed. Inconsiderate,” Fai admitted, lifting his face again and sipping at his drink with composure, or at least a very good attempt at composure. “The holidays can't be easy on him, either.”

“They weren't fun for any of us, for a while,” Touya said sharply. “But I see what you mean.”

Fai winced. “Sorry. That was inconsiderate, too.”

Yukito just rubbed his back a little. “It's okay. It might not ever feel the same, but it gets better, with time. It's, um. It can be easier, if you have other loved ones to support you.”

Fai gave him a slightly sarcastic but still fond look. “I get it,” he said, and then jerked his head down and covered his mouth with a fist to cough. With his hand on Fai's back, Yukito could feel how hard the coughs were shaking him.

“Okay, time to take you home and put you to bed,” he said briskly. “Finish your cocoa.”

“Yes, dear,” Fai chuckled. Then he lifted his eyebrows quizzically over the rim of his drink. “Hang on,” he said, wiping at a stray drop in the corner of his mouth, “you guys brought me here because you wanted to ask me something. That wasn't the something, was it?”

“Well, no, but you're sick and exhausted.”

“I'm fine,” he insisted, straightening up. “Or fine enough to talk a while longer, anyway. What's up?”

Yukito shared an eye conversation with his boyfriend to decide whether or not they should continue. Fai was clearly not to be trusted with his own health and emotional wellbeing, so Yukito was counting on Touya to make the call.

“There's a benefit concert coming up,” Touya said at last. “It's on the nineteenth. Proceeds are going to buy toys and Christmas dinner for homeless kids, the whole goodwill and peace on earth thing. A couple of Piffle artists are participating. Apparently Okiura wasn't sure if we would want to play, but Hana and Chikahito mentioned it. Even this indie hipster bullshit artist Sorata is playing a couple of songs. So Fujimoto snagged me today and asked me if we were interested in playing a short set.”

Fai sighed, and he sounded so weary that Yukito felt guilty and immediately gave Touya the signal to cancel the whole thing and volunteer to tell the studio that they weren't interested. There was no way Fai was going to be able to sing if this chest thing got any worse, anyway.

But Fai was already speaking. “How short is short?”

Touya shrugged. “Just three or four songs. There's a lot of bands, they don't really need us.”

“But if they put us on the roster, they'll sell more tickets and raise more money,” Fai said, mostly to himself. “We don't have to play Christmas songs, do we?”

“Naw, not really, we can play our own stuff. Although a cover of one Christmas song might make a good closer.”

Suddenly, Fai stopped looking weary and started looking excited. “Do you know how much fun it would be to do the Carol of the Bells with our band? Do you even know?”

“I don't. Lots of fun?” Touya guessed.

“I am going to play _my cello_ ,” Fai said, his eyes gleaming. “And Tomoyo is going to join us for that song even though we haven't decided if she's in the band yet or not, because the two of us could absolutely rock that song, and oh my god, _Sakura could rock that song_ , and I desperately need Kamui to sing . . .”

“Just let me know if I should even bother showing up,” Touya said, rolling his eyes. Fai returned a wounded expression, and Touya snorted. “I hope that shit doesn't work on Kurogane, or he's even sappier than I thought. So we should call the others, then? I want to make sure everybody's in before I say anything to Fujimoto.”

“Yes, yes, call the others,” Fai said, flapping his hands around. “We need to practice. I need to ask for the night off at work. I need to talk Tomoyo into it. Yes, this is going to be so good.” He stood up and grabbed his coat off the back of his chair, knocking his empty cup over. He grabbed Yukito into a quick hug. “I'm going home to start working on an arrangement!”

Touya and Yukito got their coats in a more stately manner and threw away their trash as they watched Fai dodge cars in the parking lot on his way to his own.

“That went better than I expected,” Yukito said brightly.

Touya was frowning. “I worry about that boy.”

Yukito punched his arm. “Quit being such a pessimist.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO MANY WARNINGS. Alcoholism recovery, drug addiction, crippling self-esteem issues, loss of family members, and in the very last scene one of the characters briefly thinks about suicide. It's a heavy, heavy chapter. I think it's a hopeful chapter in a lot of ways, but please be careful.

_and it's so hard not to scream_

_there's such a fine line_

_between the things you are and the things you've been_

 

( _three years and six months ago_ )

 

Kurogane was here. He'd thrown up in the bushes outside, but who needed to know that? He was here, and that was important, and he'd deal with all of this later because he had work to do.

He had not seen Touya in person once during the past two years, but there had been five phone calls. He'd counted them. The first phone call was the hardest. The second one was just giving him an update on everybody. The third time, he'd called Touya. He'd been pretty proud of himself for that one. He'd just called, just to say hello and tell him that he'd finished his certification and he was an electrician and he and Shizuka were moving in together.

Then, just a couple of months ago, Touya had called to tell him that they'd met a guy at a bar who could sing. The guy had guitarists for roommates and the pieces were falling into place and Touya hadn't stopped wanting this but he was absolutely going to walk away from this if it was going to make Kurogane go AWOL again.

Kurogane hadn't even hesitated. He told Touya to get his ass on the stage and get famous. It hurt like hell to think about, but that didn't make it wrong. Touya and Yukito had wanted it for totally different reasons than he did, and they deserved to have it. He told them to go for it. And then he didn't talk to them again because he didn't know what to say.

The fifth call had been less than an hour ago.

Touya had picked up the phone on the second ring. “Hey, Kurogane,” he said, caution and enthusiasm warring in his voice and making him sound oddly childish. “What's up, how's everything?”

“Sakura told me about your gig tonight.”

“O-oh. I, uh, I wanted to tell you, but I— hey, you're talking to Sakura now? That's . . . that's good.”

Kurogane wondered if Touya could hear him rolling his eyes. “I'm not mad at you for not telling me. I called to say: don't panic about the equipment. I have the address and I'm on my way down there.”

“You're . . . what?”

Kurogane had hung up the phone and paced around the apartment for twenty minutes, apparently driving Shizuka nuts since what got him out the door was a shove to the middle of his back and a mild, “Shit or get off the pot, would you?”

So here he was. At the venue. At the place where the new band was going to play their very first show. There was a couple of restaurants on the ground leve and then the concert was in the basement hall beneath them. The twin guitarists apparently had made a few connections and had gotten them this gig. They had a single that a couple of local radio stations were playing, a song called “Heaven and Earth and the Other Place,” but Kurogane kept turning it off as soon as he heard the opening notes. He was having a hard time explaining that one to his coworkers, to be honest. They usually listened to the radio at work.

“Just get the fuck down there and do it,” he muttered to himself.

Sakura had just started texting him out of the blue last week. He hadn't even known she had his number, although it wasn't that surprising that Touya had given it to her. She had started talking to him like it hadn't been two years, like the last time they had talked _hadn't_ been at Syaoran's funeral.

> _so tired_ the message said.

> _practicing like crazy lately_

_> don't know if Touya told you I'm drumming for the band_

_> or if he told you the name, which is Paper Cranes_

_> we've been working our asses off, especially when we found out we've booked a gig_

_> it's next week_

That was the point at which Kurogane had finally replied.

_Congrats._

He was still trying to think of what else he could possibly say when she sent another volley.

_> Touya's freaking._

_> He and Yukito are the only ones who know anything about the set-up, and you know how helpful Yukito usually actually is with that._

_> He's convinced the show is doomed because he won't get the equipment set up in time. He's also convinced he'll screw it up even with enough time._

_> do you want to help him for a few minutes? I don't mean you have to stay for the show, and it's totally okay if you can't, but none of us are sure that this is going to go well. Kamui keeps saying he knows all about this stuff._

_> Touya is pretty sure not._

Kurogane had just stared at all of it coming in, and then sighed a sigh that went all the way down to his bones. Nobody had been able to deny this girl anything since the day she was born, and especially not him. She was totally spoiled but only because she was so sweet. And he owed her. Owed them.

_Yeah, okay._

She'd fired off another round to say thank you and try to ask how he was, but he'd turned the sound off his phone and stopped reading them. Now, as he walked down the stairs into the music club, he wished he had read them. He might be better-prepared for this.

There were a few people already present, milling around with drinks in plastic cups and ID bracelets on. A table for merch that was woefully lacking anything on it—Kurogane hoped it was just because they hadn't brought it in yet and not because they didn't have any. They had to have at least made some shitty bumper stickers by now, right?

Fuck, it even _smelled_ familiar. It was already starting to feel like too much. He ignored it to approach the stage. A little dark-haired boy or girl was waving around some wires dramatically and arguing with a blond that . . .

Okay,  _damn_ . With a really  _hot_ blond who was lean and athletic and had a great ass and was laughing at the dark kid's frustration.

“All right, Kamui, just wait for Touya, we'll figure it out.”

“Move the fuck over before you break it,” Kurogane said as he got close enough, scowling at the crimes being committed to innocent amplifiers. “I got this.”

The blond straightened up and beamed at him with a ridiculous smile. “Sorry, but I don't actually have a clue who you are.”

“My actual hero,” said a voice behind Kurogane, and he didn't even have time to turn before Touya was offering an easy slap on the back. What Kurogane had been most worried about was that Touya would make a big deal out of seeing him. But he wasn't, he was talking so casually. Kurogane almost relaxed. “Fai, meet my little brother. Kurogane, this is Fai, our singer and lyricist.”

“Little?” Fai repeated with a smirk.

“He's younger than me, shut up. Also way better at all this shit than you guys, so maybe just go do important vocal warming exercises and let the two of us get this sorted out.”

“So what do you know about the equipment?” asked the small one, apparently named Kamui, eyeing him distrustfully.

“Plenty. Half this stuff used to be mine.”

“So, what, you're a musician, too?”

“Nope,” Kurogane said forcefully.

“You sure? Because everybody else in your family—”

“Oh, would you look at the time!” Fai said, looking at his completely bare wrist. “Time for Kamui to shut the hell up and go help Sakura get her drums in here.”

“But—”

“I kind of want to play the show on time and she has a lot of drums.”

Kamui stomped off, and Fai looked down at Kurogane apologetically. “If it makes you feel any better, Kamui is an angry kid and behaves like that with everyone.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Kurogane muttered, jumping up on the stage so he could get to work.

“Oh, wow. You're tall. You're taller than I—”

“Than you what?” Kurogane muttered, kind of surprised when he realized that Fai-the-hot-blond was almost eye-level and therefore pretty damn tall himself.

“Than I remembered,” Fai said quietly, shrugging.

Kurogane felt his heart start racing at that, and wondered if maybe he wanted to get the hell out of here right now. “You know me?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Think I still have one of your CDs in my car,” Fai answered. “But I'm guessing you don't want to talk about that.”

“Where did you get that idea?” Kurogane snarled.

Fai winced, but held his ground. “Listen, I wasn't going to . . . never mind. Judging by the enthusiastically threatening expression Touya is giving me right now, you maybe just want to be left alone. I'll try to keep the twins from bugging you, okay?”

Kurogane had his mouth open to tell Fai that if he wanted an autograph he was going to get whatever writing implement he produced shoved up his ass, but when he heard that, all he could really say was, “Huh.”

Fai winked before he bounded away.

“He's something, right?” Touya drawled, and then pointed down at the equipment. “Now let's get to it. I am pretty sure that Kamui somehow wired my keyboard into Subaru's guitar pedal and we've got about half an hour to showtime.”

Touya glanced over at him a few times while they worked, but didn't seem to have the nerve to say anything.

“I'm fine, you know,” Kurogane said after a few minutes. “In general, I mean. I'm doing good.”

Touya lost some of the hunch in his shoulders, but he didn't look up. “Good to hear.”

“I'm not mad at you. I'm happy for you, man. I am.”

Touya tested Yuki's guitar for sound. “Get over here and help me with this. What is this echo?”

Kurogane chuckled a little as he moved over to help. “Remember when we couldn't figure out the echo in my mic at that one gig and I just went without it and screamed every song as loud as I could?”

“Remember how you couldn't talk for three days?” Touya shot back, grinning. “God, that was blissful.” Then his face crumpled suddenly. “I . . . fuck.”

“It's fine,” Kurogane said calmly, even though it wasn't totally fine because he hated that Touya was afraid to joke around with him. “I don't want to talk about all of it. But I go to meetings and I go to a counselor right now, and Shizuka is . . . he helps. I'm here, aren't I? I'm not— I don't know. I gotta take this slow. Don't get worried if I need some time after being here tonight, though, yeah? If you don't hear from me, I mean— I'm okay. I'm not gonna go backwards.”

Touya nodded. “Yeah, okay.” They went quiet for a minute while they worked, testing the guitar until it sounded right. “But seriously, man, you gotta teach Fai how to do this or something, because we can't afford to hire anyone for tech right now.”

Hanging out with Fai sounded strangely appealing. Yeah, no, not going there. Maybe he and Shizuka said they were in an open relationship, but he could not even fathom  _that_ right now. Especially not with a musician. Especially not with someone who knew who he was. Big nope.

Sakura and Kamui and Yukito all came in with pieces of her drum set, filing up onto the stage in a row with another dark-haired kid trailing at the back with a big cardboard box.

“Where's our table?” he puffed. “I can't believe how heavy a box of EPs is.”

“I put my pet rocks in there,” Sakura said soberly as she set down her bass. “I needed them to be my security blanket for our first show. Sorry.” The kid's eyes were wide and injured. She laughed and threw an arm around his shoulders. “Oh my god, Subaru, I'm just messing with you. Also offering to take you to the gym to work out, because that box is not even heavy.”

He looked all hurt. Wow. This was one sensitive kid.

“I'm sorry,” she said seriously, giving him a real hug. “It's just nerves. I'll stop teasing you.”

She looked so different. Taller, stronger, older. She'd gone from being a cute kid to a really gorgeous young woman and that was slightly terrifying.

“Is it just me or does Sakura wear a lot more makeup than she used to?” Kurogane mumbled to Touya.

Touya snorted. “She thinks she's so punk, seriously.”

“She looks good,” he muttered.

“Yeah, she does.”

“Kurogane!” Fuck, she'd seen him. She came hurrying over the stage, and he frowned as he watched her. “Glad you could make it,” she said, sounding casual and drawing him into a quick hug that he didn't really reciprocate because. Well, shit. He couldn't even look her in the eye, that was why. He'd thought he could do this, but actually talking to her might be beyond him.

“Are you limping?” he responded, latching onto what he'd seen when she crossed over here. “You okay? What happened?”

The smile on her lips disappeared so fast he didn't even see it go. “Oh god, I thought Touya told you. Touya!” she said sharply.

Touya was back to hunching over equipment and not making eye contact. The sick feeling came back to Kurogane's gut. Shit. Shit shit shit.

“Is that . . . from the accident . . .”

“I—yeah. It's— Kurogane, it's okay, it's okay, I promise, please don't—”

But he was already sprinting for the exit. He held on until he could get back to the same bush from earlier, because if you were going to puke on somebody's landscaping, you should at least try to minimize the damage.

He couldn't bring himself to go back inside after he threw up, so he just got back in his car and headed home. He was so angry and sick and sad that he couldn't breathe. He hadn't been like this in a while, but he didn't know that Sakura was . . . He pounded on the steering wheel and screamed. He tore up the stairs to his apartment and found Shizuka sitting quietly on the sofa, not even doing anything, just sitting there.

“Fuck,” he choked, and realized he was crying. He wondered if he'd been crying the whole way back here. “You didn't tell me how bad she was hurt, none of you told me, you pieces of shit, you— I know I should have known because I should have _been there,_ but I can't believe none of you told me.”

Shizuka stood up like he was ready for Kurogane to start throwing punches, but Kurogane just shoved him back down onto the sofa and crumpled up beside him and let all the guilt take over. Shizuka would watch over him and would put him back together later.

 

* * *

 

It was hours after the concert that Tomoyo finally came home, but sleep was impossible tonight. A re-run of the late-night news at 2 o'clock in the morning flickered against the walls of the family room, and her mother was a warm presence at her side.

“ _Nationally-recognized rock group The Paper Cranes gave a more memorable show than they intended tonight at the Make the Season Merry and Bright concert. The Salvation Army organized the benefit, and The Paper Cranes were just one of many performers at the event this evening. Things turned from merry to scary when lead singer and frontman Fai Fluorite collapsed on stage at the end of their set list. An unidentified stage worker carried Fluorite to a safer location and Fluorite left the venue in an ambulance. He was admitted to Mount Sinai Hospital with severe pneumonia and is in critical condition.”_

Tomoyo sipped at her tea, but it was going cold. She set it aside and shook her head when her mother asked if she wanted a reheat. She leaned against Okaasan's warmth and sighed shakily.

“ _The Paper Cranes are signed on with Piffle Records. Piffle Records could not be reached for comment and the band members have refused to make any statements tonight. Fluorite's performance was energetic and fans interviewed live at the concert expressed shock at the news of his condition . . .”_

Tomoyo watched the screen through puffy eyes, a tissue still clutched in one hand even though she'd stopped crying a while ago. She had come home once the hospital made it obvious that no one would be admitted to see Fai tonight and once Touya had just about threatened everyone with bodily harm if they didn't go. There had already been some hard-core fans gathering in front of the hospital with candles when she left. She'd almost been tempted to join them, just to avoid sitting at home fretting.

Her mother had greeted her at the door asking what in _hell_ was going on, and what she'd been doing on stage at that concert. Maybe the argument would have lasted longer if Tomoyo hadn't been sobbing her eyes out.

“They had to put him in ICU, Okaasan, I just—he's my _friend_ but he doesn't have any family and they won't let anyone who isn't family into his room. I can't understand that. He's drowning inside his own lungs and he has to be alone when they need him to fight for his _life_. Okaasan, I don't want him to die, I don't . . .”

Okaasan wasn't close to Fai, but Tomoyo knew she remembered him. She remembered how he'd gone from cheerful youth to distant and cold young man when his mother died; she remembered that he didn't cry at the funeral and didn't let anyone other than Ashura touch him. She wanted to know what was happening as much as Tomoyo did. So she parked Tomoyo on the couch with tissues and tea and blankets, and was staying here with her to watch the news because they couldn't do anything _useful._

Tomoyo had wanted to stay at the hospital, but Touya just kept saying it made more sense for them all to get some sleep and come back tomorrow when they knew more. Kurogane had flat-out refused, and Touya had decreed that the two brothers would be the ones to stay at the hospital overnight and text everyone with updates.

Sakura had tried to argue, and Tomoyo couldn't help that it pushed her over the edge into being in love with the girl. She was fierce and lovely, and she'd been wiping away her own tears with the determination that Subaru's grief came first and she needed to comfort him more than she needed any for herself. She stood in front of her brother and said he couldn't send them away when Fai needed them. She'd been limping so badly by that point that Touya won the argument by asking her about her leg

Tomoyo had thought at first that Sakura had twisted something during the concert, and had pulled her aside only a few minutes before to ask her to go downstairs to get it examined.

 

_Sakura looked down at the floor for a moment before conjuring up a devastatingly sweet smile from somewhere in her soul._

“ _It's an old injury,” she said, “from a car accident. It's hurting some today, but that's not important right now.”_

“ _Let me know if there's anything I can get you, okay? I know everyone's upset and distracted, but you shouldn't neglect your own needs,” Tomoyo answered, finding Sakura's hand in hers without realizing she'd reached for it. She gave it a squeeze. “Everyone here cares about you, too.”_

_Sakura had blushed and nodded, and seemed reluctant to let go of her hand until Kamui called for her attention a few seconds later._

 

Tomoyo had kept a close eye on her until Touya forced her to go home, and that's when Tomoyo had decided to head home herself. She'd find plenty of ways to help in the coming days, but for now she thought the most good she could do was give Touya and Kurogane some space.

“Sweetheart, why don't you go to bed?” her mother said, running a hand through her hair. She'd been taking out Tomoyo's braid and untangling the ribbon and fake flowers she'd woven in for the performance. Now she was just brushing it with slow, even strokes.

“I can't,” she said, turning to get a good cuddle in Okaasan's arms.

“Somebody will call you if anything . . .”

“He won't die,” she said firmly, surprising herself and her mother at the same time. She felt the strength of her conviction course through her like the way the cheers of the crowd a few hours ago had, rumbling in her chest. “He's got too much to live for. He's going to make it.”

Her mother kissed her forehead and didn't argue with her.

Tomoyo didn't wait much longer before going to bed, but sleep didn't come easily. She simply lay still and thought back over the past few weeks, looking for regret about her own choices. She couldn't find any.

 

* * *

 

_(four hours earlier)_

 

The Paper Cranes were a last-minute announcement and the only half-filled venue suddenly sold out almost overnight. Their symbol—an heavily-stylized and edited photo of a paper crane that Fai had personally folded—had been plastered at the bottom of posters and on the website, with bright and bold text proclaiming their addition to the show with the use of too many punctuation marks.

Tomoyo was backstage with the others, and trying to breathe. Her hands were sweaty on her violin case.

Fai's phone call not even three weeks ago had been nearly frantic with excitement, and she'd found herself agreeing to do the show without thinking about it long enough. She had a lot of other responsibilities during December. She was just a backup dancer right now, but that didn't mean she didn't practice long and hard with the rest of the troupe for their run of The Nutcracker. And anytime she wasn't doing that, she was helping her mom with administrative work for the benefit gala. She was taking a few college classes online and she'd only finished her finals a week ago.

She was exhausted. But then, she couldn't complain too much around the band. They were all nearly as wiped out as she was. They all had jobs and school in addition to their practices, just like she did, and Fai was doing most of the writing for her parts.

A hand fell on her shoulder, and she turned around expecting Fai. Instead, Sakura was there, smiling at her.

“Ready?” she asked.

“I think so,” she whispered, and Sakura laughed.

She was so different today, and Tomoyo marveled at it. She'd seemed klutzy and sort of shy every time they'd gotten together to practice in the past couple of weeks, to say nothing of their first meeting when she'd dumped soda on herself—not that Tomoyo was tactless enough to bring that up. She'd thought immediately that Sakura was cute and funny and wonderful and she'd had to be very firm with herself about how far she was allowed to let that admiration go.

After tonight, she wasn't sure she'd be able to help herself. Sakura was born to perform, just like she was. It showed, today. She was glowing, energized, confident. Tomoyo had already known she could be serious, because she could get really intense during practice. This was something else. She seemed to suddenly fit inside her own skin.

“You're going to do great, Tomoyo. I'll be back, okay? I just need to go talk to my brother for a minute.”

After tonight, there was no way she could deny she was falling for this girl. Hard.

Tomoyo re-braided her hair to calm herself down, which usually worked. She wondered which brother Sakura meant, since both of them were here tonight. Tomoyo had wanted to ask Fai about the man he was dating but had never found the opportunity, and then he'd showed up just half an hour ago and Sakura had introduced him as her brother rather than as Fai's boyfriend. Tomoyo was a little amused at how close this family apparently stuck together, since Kurogane apparently worked with the band despite not playing in it.

They didn't even need him tonight, as far as Tomoyo could tell. Whoever had set up the concert had hired their own people to do all the technical stuff, but the whole band insisted that they could not possibly play a show without his help in tuning the instruments and setting up. Kurogane might roll his eyes and bluster, but it was clear that he also believed they could not survive without him.

Fuuma, the sweet if slightly crass man she'd met before, was also here but claimed it was only for moral support and refused to help them get ready. Apparently he preferred to bug Kamui non-stop instead. Sakura had explained that this was important pre-show ritual and Kamui wouldn't perform right if Fuuma didn't antagonize them half to death first.

“Okay, people,” came a familiar voice, “places.”

Suddenly the band was crowding around her, and Tomoyo's heart was fluttering in her chest.

“You're absolutely sure about this, right?” Fai asked, materializing at her side.

“Yeah,” she breathed, gratefully squeezing the hand he offered her. There hadn't been time to officially say anything to anyone at Joffrey yet, and her mother was going to lose it, but Tomoyo was sure she was making the right call. She'd been sure since yesterday, when they'd gotten together for their final rehearsal. The band had offered to introduce her as a friend and special guest who was only here to play one show, but then they'd said (or rather, Touya had said, and she'd sensed he often spoke for the group because they'd all been nodding along) that if she wanted it they could also introduce her as a new member of the band.

 

“ _You . . . you really want me to join you?”_

_Sakura was beaming just behind her older brother as he answered, “Yeah, we do.”_

“ _You bring something special,” Fai added, looking just as happy. “Something we didn't even know was missing until you came along.”_

“ _I'm really looking forward to working with you, if you'll have us,” Subaru said warmly, taking one of her hands in both of his. “We all are.”_

_Kamui had been shy around her so far, but even they came forward to say, “I think you and I could write some really cool stuff.”_

 

Fai beamed at her, but she could hear the faint wheezing sound in his breath, and she couldn't help but feel worried for him despite her own nerves about this performance. He'd been sick for the past couple of weeks, and with all the last-minute preparation of trying to throw together a set for this concert, he hadn't taken the time to go to the doctor and get himself checked out. He always seemed to be either furiously working or mysteriously absent. She'd heard the others gossiping about how he'd disappeared from a party last week without explanation—she'd been invited, too, but had to dance that night.

Now here it was, December nineteenth, and there was no way he'd be able to get a doctor's appointment until after Christmas. She suddenly doubted he could even do this show. He looked pale and clammy. His breathing was more labored than it had been yesterday. His eyes were starting to look glassy.

Kurogane suddenly came up behind them, carrying Fai's cello case.

“My baby,” Fai said happily, reaching out his hands.

Kurogane smirked at him. “You talking about me, or the damn oversized violin here?”

Fai made a pouting face. “Maybe I was talking about both.” He coughed, and it sounded like tearing wet paper.

“The plural of baby is 'babies,' you know,” Kurogane said, stepping forward and putting the case to one side so he could step as close to Fai as the man would allow him. Tomoyo retreated a few steps to give them a semblance of privacy, but that was as far as she was willing to move away from Fai right now. She took deep, calming breaths. This was going to be fun. She was in a rock band as of now. She was twenty years old and she was leaving a major ballet company to be in a rock band, and oh god her mother was going to _kill her_.

“Hey,” Kurogane rumbled. He was quiet, but she couldn't help hearing with how close she was to them. “After the show is over, I'm taking you to the urgent care place. I'm serious.”

Tomoyo was pretending to be very interested in all the other people milling around and not looking at them, but she could hear it all.

“I'm fine,” Fai protested. “Or I will be, if I can just get a decent night's sleep for once. I promise.”

“Not good enough anymore. The whole band is going to back me up on this. I agree you need a couple of days off, but you also need a damn doctor. You can't try to pretend you're not really, really sick.”

“You're not my caretaker, Kurogane,” Fai snapped. “Fuck, you're not even officially my boyfriend. You do not get to tell me what I will or won't do or—”

“Look, I know this month has been rough on you, and I'll even understand if you've got, I don't know, a fear of doctors, but Fai, just— Hey. You're really gonna give me that not-your-boyfriend crap right now? I mean, I'm fine with that if that's what you want, but it's not even relevant—”

“This is the actual worst time for a heart-to-heart,” Fai said. “We're on stage in five minutes. Can this maybe wait?”

“The conversation, yes. But can you just—acknowledge that I care and this is important?”

Tomoyo was shocked by the bitter laugh that came out of her friend. She was starting to realize that she didn't know him that well. Or at least not the him he'd been since he lost his mom.

“I don't know why you do,” Fai muttered. “What the hell do you even see in me?”

“I could ask the same thing,” Kurogane said. “But that's not gonna get us anywhere. Come on. Nobody's paying attention. Kiss me and promise me we can talk later.”

“Yes, we can talk later, you big dumb,” Fai said, smiling at last. It was quiet long enough that Tomoyo knew the kiss was happening. “There, now go away so we can do our thing. Sorry they won't let you run our equipment tonight.”

Kurogane snorted. “Yeah, because I needed to work two jobs today.”

“You know you love all of this,” Fai said lightly.

Kurogane didn't say anything, and Tomoyo peeked. He was standing there with a weird expression, and Fai was slowly turning white as a ghost. Oops. Somebody shouldn't have used the “L” word around their not-boyfriend. Or maybe it was something else, because you'd think they'd be all stammering and trying to cover it up instead of Kurogane getting all stony and cold.

“Shit,” Fai said. “I didn't—”

“It'll have to wait,” Kurogane cut him off. Then he seemed to school himself a little, and he softened just enough to say, “Good luck out there,” before disappearing.

Fai turned around and saw Tomoyo looking, and he looked terribly sad. She didn't know what to do, so she just mimed zipping her lips like she had that first night. At least that put something _like_ a smile on his face.

The rest of the band came crashing down on them, all talking at once, Sakura stretching her arms and Kamui warming their voice and asking Fai if he was warmed up, everyone trying to ask Tomoyo if she'd changed her mind about playing the whole set and if she'd rather wait here until it was time for the last song. She hadn't changed her mind, although suddenly she wondered if she ought to, since apparently she was joining a band with a very unstable lead singer. Fai was pretending everything was fine, and that meant there was no other choice than to get onstage and just power through this.

They came out on stage with big grins and waves, Sakura twirling her drumsticks in her hands and Fai nearly dancing. Tomoyo tried to match their enthusiasm, but she felt kind of stupid since her usual entrance to a stage was _en pointe_.

Tomoyo hadn't known what to wear, so she was wearing a slightly Gothic black dress and purple ankle boots and she'd woven fake poinsettia flowers into her hair. And apparently she fit right in, since Subaru's pants were almost the same shade of purple and Kamui's boots were practically an outfit all on their own. Fai had on the world's ugliest Christmas sweater, which apparently he'd pulled out of the back of a closet for the party last week and _might_ have belonged to his mother's father. It was . . . orange. There were reindeer antlers and fuzzy balls that might have been ornaments, maybe. It was . . . well, nobody would even notice if the rest of them were stark naked.

“Hello, Chicago!” Fai bellowed into the microphone as they all made quick work of settling into their instruments. Sakura and Touya were using equipment that didn't belong to them, and they were just quickly checking it out to make sure they had a feel for it. The others were plugging into their amps. A member of the crew was carrying Fai's cello, since he was only using it for one song.

The audience roared. It washed over Tomoyo like a wave.

“It's good to be back home!”

An even louder roar.

“Happy December-holiday-of-your-choice-or-lack-thereof! Thanks for coming out for this, everyone, we can't tell you how much we appreciate your help. You're gonna make some kids really happy on Christmas morning. You guys ready to hear some music?”

It was a silly question. The audience had been listening to music for over an hour already. But they still shrieked and whistled and clapped like it was their last night on earth.

Subaru and Kamui struck the opening chords, Sakura was right behind them, and then they flowed into their first song with the ease of long practice. They'd picked a couple of their most popular and least offensive songs and quickly written Tomoyo's part into them, and she'd practiced until her fingers were sore. She'd put the violin aside to focus on dancing several years ago, and she'd just had to deal with the pain of building the callouses back up. It was far less painful than the abuse she'd put her feet through.

She tried to forget the audience and focus on doing a good job. This was her debut. You only got one. Well. One per industry, maybe.

They made it through their three songs without incident of any kind, except Fai going through an entire bottle of water trying to keep his cough under control. Everything was great. Time for the big announcement and time for the big song.

“Okay, so you're all probably wondering by now who this gorgeous girl with the violin is, right?” Fai said, which was followed by wolf whistles and more roaring. God, he was good on stage. They just ate out of the palm of his hand. “This is Tomoyo. Say hi, Tomoyo.”

She waved her bow and grinned as widely as she could.

“She's new,” Fai said conspiratorially, actually cupping one hand over the microphone like he was whispering in someone's ear. Then, in a louder voice, “I think our songs sound so much better with her help. Don't you guys think so?”

There was the beginnings of one of those roars.

“I can't hear you. I need you all to please join me in giving a very warm welcome to the new member of the Paper Cranes, Miss Tomoyo Daidouji!”

The roar was incredible. She actually closed her eyes for a second, and felt the cold air that was sweeping in from the cracked-open ceiling. It was a freezing cold night, but with the press of people in here, they actually needed the ventilation. She felt drunk. Powerful.

“Okay, this is going to be our last song tonight, and I think if you're not convinced yet, Tomoyo's about to win you over!” Fai ran over and grabbed his cello. “Ready when you are, lady!”

They started it slow and soft, and the only sound other than the strings was a very soft humming that you wouldn't know was coming from Subaru unless you were told.

Then they built it up. Kamui swept in with their guitar at the same time that a little tinkle of piano came from Touya. Kamui and Subaru took vocals for the first part.

“Hark how the bells-” / “Sweet silver bells-”

“All seem to say-” / “Throw cares away-”

They started off soft and sweet, the two of them, but then the others started to come in at different pitches. The music built up. Louder. Faster.

“Oh how they pound!” / “Raising the sound!”

Kamui's guitar was wailing and Sakura was singing her lungs out, and then Tomoyo and Fai moved closer together to offer their own voices into Fai's microphone as the music filled every single one of her senses.

“Merry merry merry merry Christmas!”

Her violin was shrieking and she played so hard that sweat dripped down her face and neck. Fai was going so fast that he snapped a string and just kept playing so well that Tomoyo was the only one who noticed. They were breathless. It was incredible. The rush. Tomoyo had never known it could feel quite like this on stage. And here she was, front and center.

They ended. The crowd was like thunder. It throbbed in her chest, and she looked at Fai with her eyes so wide she thought they would pop out of her head. He grinned and whooped and hugged her.

“You've been a beautiful audience,” he said into the mic, panting and hoarse. “Enjoy the rest of the show.”

That was not what they'd planned at all, there was supposed to be a whole little speech where they each said a couple of sentences thanking everyone for taking part in the benefit, but they had no choice other than to follow Fai's lead. They grabbed their instruments and hurried after him.

They almost made it backstage before Fai wavered and collapsed. Almost. A couple of cameras picked up the shot of Fai landing in a sprawl on tangled wires, and Kurogane hurtling onto the edge of the stage and scooping up Fai's shaking body into his arms.

 

* * *

 

Kurogane had apparently decided that Fai would not be able to die if he slept at the hospital. Touya was not about to ruin that with logic. Even if Kurogane wasn't totally aware of it himself, Touya knew that part of this was about Syaoran. Kurogane had literally not even known Syaoran was in the hospital until he was already gone. It had been quick, for one thing. For another, he'd been passed out drunk on somebody's floor after a party and didn't pick up his phone messages until noon the next day.

So here they were. Kurogane stubbornly refusing to move from his poorly-padded seat, as though it would keep Fai alive. Yukito had taken Sakura home because, probably due to psychosomatic reasons, her leg was hurting so badly that she was nauseous.

Touya had stopped trying to make conversation an hour ago. He wanted to get them both some coffee, or go call Yukito, or something other than just sitting here, but he didn't want to leave Kurogane alone. He wished he hadn't literally chased Subaru and Kamui out of the hospital to go home, because even though he'd wanted Kurogane to have space he also wished someone else was here to help him. The twins deserved to be here.

This was really very bad, he thought delicately. If Fai didn't make it through tonight . . . Well, it wasn't going to be good for any of them, particularly. But Kurogane couldn't handle this. Maybe it wasn't the same as what he'd lost before, but enough was enough and Kurogane didn't need to lose more. It wasn't fair.

Damn Fai, anyway. Damn that stupid selfish bastard. He could have gone to the doctor weeks ago, but he just couldn't bother to take care of himself at all, could he?

Then Touya saw the most welcome sight he'd ever seen in his life. His dad coming through the doors. Fujitaka came striding in and Touya was on his feet and running into his arms without an ounce of shame or hesitation. “Dad,” he choked. “God. I'm so glad you're here.”

Dad held onto him fiercely. “I made Sakura take a sleeping pill. I told Yukito to stay at the house with her and try to get some sleep if he could. Do you want to go? You've been here for hours.”

Touya shook his head, and turned around to look at Kurogane. There was no way Kurogane hadn't seen Dad come in, but he was just staring at his feet over there. Touya couldn't leave yet, assuming he'd even want to, which he didn't. He couldn't stand the idea of being home and not knowing anything, which was actually overpowering his usual need to be attached to Yukito.

Dad patted his back, then went over to sit down beside his other son.

“Kurogane. Talk to me, kiddo.”

Kurogane let loose a tiny sob and shook his head. Touya didn't exactly relax, but he did feel a little better when he saw that. Kurogane wasn't shutting down so much as he was just trying to hold on. Touya toyed for a moment with the idea of calling Shizuka and inappropriately dragging him from his boyfriend's bed to come deal with his ex. It would be better if Shizuka meditated with Kurogane for a few hours to keep him stable until they got some new information, and yet there was that whole boyfriend thing.

“Okay, don't talk, that's fine, too,” Dad said calmly. “But I'm here if you need me.”

Kurogane grabbed Dad's hand and held on. Touya winced. He hoped Dad still had fingers in the morning.

A woman in scrubs entered the waiting area looking grave. “Is there a next of kin for Mr. Fluorite available?”

“I'm his father,” Dad lied through his teeth, standing up. Touya had never found his father more heroic.

“Can you come with me, please.”

“Is it all right if we talk here? I'm fine with these two hearing everything.”

Touya spent a second wondering how in hell they were getting away with this. This should not work. And yet the woman was talking.

“Fai is still in critical condition, but he has stabilized. If we can make it through tonight, I think he will recover.”

None of them dared to feel relieved yet, but Dad's fingers might survive Kurogane's grip after all.

“Mr. Fluorite, are you sure we can't finish this conversation elsewhere? I have some information about your son that you may wish to keep private.”

Dad hesitated, and that was when it became obvious that lying about their relationship was morally not okay because whatever the doctor had to say was not related to Fai's survival anymore.

“I'm not his father,” he admitted. “Fai doesn't have any next of kin.”

“But we are his family,” Touya said quietly when the woman gave them an angry look. “We just . . . we are.”

She shook her head. “I'm afraid I cannot discuss any details about my patient with anyone not authorized to receive the information.”

“Please,” Kurogane muttered. It was the only word Touya had heard him say in hours and it just about broke his heart.

“I can tell that whatever you have to say is pretty serious,” Touya said, “and Fai is going to need us. That idiot needs all the help he can get. Is there anything you can tell us?” He was very, very firm about not thinking about what Fai's mother had died of. She'd been sick, and she'd died, and he didn't know what the illness was nor if her son could— no. He was not thinking about that.

“I think that if you have access to his home and his permission to enter, you may want to use it,” she muttered.

“What?”

“You may want to look for evidence of certain . . . _God_ I hate patient confidentiality sometimes,” she muttered. “Yes, Mr. Fluorite is going to need you. I wish I could say more. I need to get back to work. I'm sorry.”

She left, and Kurogane touched his forehead with a trembling hand. “Shit,” he said. “Shit shit shit.”

“What?” Touya repeated.

“Call the twins and tell them to snoop in Fai's bathroom. Right now.”

Touya was still thinking about illness, and about the possibility that Fai had prescription medication in his bathroom that might tell them what it was, and so he called Subaru and half-explained the situation and told him to go take a look. Subaru was sniffling and he'd answered the phone too fast to have been asleep. He didn't even hang up the phone, just brought it with him and start poking around.

It didn't take long.

“Oh my god,” Subaru said softly.

“Subaru, what is it?”

“Oh god oh god oh god Fai _you idiot you stupid stupid man_ —”

“ _What is it_?” Touya snapped.

“I'm not exactly sure, because I've never seen any before, but um. What does small bags of white powder hidden under the sink say to _you_?”

“Fuck,” Touya said. “Oh fuck. I'm gonna kill him.”

Kurogane didn't even look surprised.

 

* * *

 

The world was nothing but white-hot pain. Fai immediately regretted consciousness.

There was a lot of confusion. Guilt. Definitely guilt. Was the concert over? Why did he hurt so much? Why was he so tired?

He didn't want to see anyone. Didn't want to talk to them. He hadn't been able to look anybody in the eye for weeks now. He let himself slip back under.

This happened several times.

 

* * *

 

The time he decided to try to stay awake wasn't so different from the first few times, except that he heard somebody shuffling in the room and didn't feel like he could safely be unconscious again until he knew who it was.

He blinked, and everything seemed so blurry and white and ugly that he wondered if the pain in his body was just made manifest around him. The person in the room stepped closer and revealed itself to be a very tall, broad, and dark person. Fai realized that his pain was actually manifesting as a very intense Asian-featured man who was about to make him regret waking up even more than he already did.

“Hi, honey,” he whispered.

“Honey?” Kurogane drawled as he set aside the book he was reading, marking it with an actual bookmark. What a nerd, bless him. “Really?”

Fai tried to smile, but he choked on the feeling of the tubes running into his nose, and started coughing, then that hurt really bad. For a while. He honestly didn't know how long he went on with his lungs being shredded, but when he regained the ability to notice things besides pain, he noticed that he was crying. He tried to wipe away the tears, but his arms felt like they were tied to the bed and also there were things stuck to his fingers and into his arms. So then he cried some more because he didn't like that.

“I'm sorry,” he tried to say, except he was choking on something, and spat it onto his chin. He blinked in surprise when he saw a red droplet hit the blanket drawn up to his chest. “Oh my god,” he whispered.

Kurogane stepped forward with a cloth and wiped his chin off so gently that Fai suddenly wondered if he was just dreaming this.

“The doctor said this would happen for a few days,” he explained as he dabbed at the blood. “You stripped the lining of your nose and throat pretty good, which also explains how the infection set into your lungs so deeply.”

“Huh?” Fai said eloquently. The words were swimming through his brain instead of sinking in where they were supposed to. “Sorry. I don't. I don't feel good.”

Kurogane snorted. “No shit. You have pneumonia.”

“Oh.”

“Which started as bronchitis, and might have been easier to treat if you hadn't exacerbated the problem quite so badly by snorting cocaine all over the infection,” Kurogane added with a suspicious nonchalance.

That was it, then. It was over. Fai closed his eyes. “Nope. I'm nope-ing right out of consciousness now. Bye.” His heart was pounding far too quickly for that to be the case, but he could pretend.

The bed shifted, and Fai opened his eyes to see that Kurogane was just sitting beside him, looking at him with a solemn expression.

“So this is the part where you tell me you're very, very upset with me and we're not dating anymore, right? Closely followed by expressions of disgust and anger?”

Kurogane patted his leg in response.

“That's not very reassuring.”

“I'm trying to think of what to say.”

“Okay, scale of one to ten, one being actually still a little fond of me and ten being willing to yank the tubes out of my nose and let me die, how much do you hate me? And once you've rated yourself, maybe give me a heads up about where the others are on that scale.”

Kurogane had two “tch” noises; one noise for mild amusement and one for annoyance. This “tch” was like a little of both.

“Most of the others are sitting out in the waiting room, frothing at the mouth for a chance to get in here.”

Fai couldn't help the way he winced. He knew they'd be upset, but he didn't think he could actually deal with all of them at once right now.

“They want to tell you that they love you and support you and will do whatever they can to help.”

Fai felt his eyes go wide, and he stared at Kurogane, too numb to actually truly register that. “What?”

“I had to kind of rein them in so I could ask you a couple of questions that apparently didn't occur to them.”

“What kind of questions?” Fai felt his heart start to pound again. He didn't want to talk about this. He just didn't. What was there to talk about? He'd tried to control it, he hadn't, and now they'd found out and it was all over. Maybe there was some relief in that, but he didn't want to look at all their faces and hear all the words he'd had for himself this past year coming out of their mouths instead of his own.

“I want to ask you if you're happy,” Kurogane said bluntly, his mouth a grim line.

Fai blinked, wondered if Kurogane was an idiot, and then he just laughed.

“Are you happy with the drugs? Are you happy on your own? That's what I want to know. Is it something you do for fun? Does it make a difference to you that everyone out there is pretty devastated?”

Fai gaped at him.

“I'm pretty sure this is something else,” Kurogane said, still grim. “I'd like to think I know you well enough to know that you're not totally cavalier about this and you're upset that you've upset them. But I need to hear you say it.”

Fai had thought his arms weighed a thousand pounds each, but one of his hands lifted up all by itself, like floating. Trying to organize his thoughts around the sickness and the pain was a lot like trying to catch dandelion fluff out of the air, so it wasn't surprising that his hand could float, somehow. It was reaching for Kurogane, but he made it go back down because that was stupid of his hand. Kurogane wasn't going to want that.

Kurogane saw it, and he grabbed Fai's hand tight. “Just say something,” he murmured.

Fai was shaking. “Does it matter?” he whispered.

“Does what matter?”

“Either I'm an asshole who casually uses illegal drugs for recreation and doesn't care if it hurts people, or I'm an absolute idiot who's doing this out of some seriously flawed judgement. Either way, I'm stupid and a waste of time and I've lost you and I've lost the band so _why does it matter_ —?” He was choking on it, and had to stop.

“It matters,” Kurogane said, not letting go of his hand. “Because I don't want to let you go, and I won't unless you tell me I have to.”

Fai blinked, fast and hard. He was  _not_ going to cry. He wasn't. He didn't deserve to. “What?”

“You're not a bad person, Fai. I'm pretty sure you think you are, but you aren't. How you got here, that's something to consider, but it's not the only thing about you that I know.”

“What, Kurogane? What do you know?” His chest ached far more deeply than his lungs. He couldn't hear this. He just couldn't. Traitorous mouth, asking questions.

“I know you like Buster Keaton and Ginger Rogers. I know you like hot cocoa more than you like coffee. I know you love cooking your mom's old recipes. I know that you've got music in your veins instead of blood. I know Sakura is closer to you than she's been to anyone since Syaoran died. I know that you've been single-parenting some twins for the past three years, and I'm pretty sure you're their mother, and I _know_ they feel safer with you than they ever did with their real parents. I know that when I'm with you, I feel—”

Kurogane stopped talking. Fai turned his head away and told himself again that he wouldn't cry. Whatever Kurogane had felt was gone.

“I'm still trying to name what I feel around you,” he said after a moment. “The point I'm trying to make is that there's a lot more to you than cocaine, and I just want to hear you say that you know it, too.”

Fai shoved Kurogane off the bed and tried to ignore how much his arms shook. Kurogane managed to catch himself without getting hurt, and popped back up with an annoyed growl.

“Get out,” Fai whispered. “Just get out. I can't—”

“I had another question.”

“Oh god, _what_?”

“Have you ever exposed my baby sister to danger by putting her in the room with a drug dealer or giving one any idea that you could be hurt through her?”

“What? No! I would fucking never, ever do that. I can't believe you'd fucking even ask that, Sakura is—”

Kurogane was giving him a smug look. “Important to you?”

Fai glared at him.

“She's waiting out there for a chance to come rushing in here and tell you that she loves you and wants to help you. Fai, I'm gonna ask this one more time. Do you fucking want help?”

He couldn't fight it anymore, didn't want to, because he was tired and sad and alone and he was so sick of feeling that way and it was time to just let someone else _help for once_ , and he sobbed, “Yes.”

He was wrapped in Kurogane's arms before he knew it. The bigger man was careful not to disturb the oxygen tubes in his nose or the IV drip in his arm or the sensor on his finger, but he wasn't gentle about the embrace. He had Fai wrapped up as tight as he could without ruining Fai's ability to breathe. Being upright made his head spin, and he groaned.

“Yes, fuck, I do, Kurogane, please, oh god please don't go I don't want to do this by myself anymore, I don't, I can't—”

“Not going anywhere,” Kurogane muttered.

Fai shuddered and tried very hard not to cough again, but he couldn't help it and he spattered blood onto Kurogane's shirt. He was choking. He was drowning. Oh god he was dying, he felt like he was dying—

“Fai!”

He was dumped onto the bed.

“We need help in here!” Kurogane was hollering into the hallway. “He's choking, he's fucking choking, hurry up!”

Then he was back, pushing Fai upright and bracing hands on him to lean him forward without letting him fall. Fai was coughing so hard he thought his ribs would crack.

“Breathe,” Kurogane said urgently. “Fai, stay with me. Breathe, dammit.”

He was trying to, but he was drowning. Everything was white and it all hurt again. He wanted to go back to sleep now.

 

* * *

 

Subaru watched Fai's chest moving, his game forgotten on his cell phone as it sat loosely in his hand. Fai was breathing, and that was pretty miraculous. He was more interested in seeing that right now than anything.

He'd stabilized enough that they were letting people back into his room. They said visiting hours only, but the entire nursing staff recognized the whole band on sight now and didn't try to dislodge them from the waiting area if they showed up after hours. They figured that when Fai regained consciousness, whenever that was, he'd probably like to see a familiar face.

They'd vacuumed his lungs, apparently. It was completely disgusting, according to Kurogane. In all the confusion and urgency, nobody had actually bothered to get rid of him, so he'd gotten to see what they sucked out of Fai. He'd looked sort of haunted as he reported it all to them, so they hadn't pressed for details. They had tried pressing him for information about the conversation just before that, but Kurogane had been pretty close-lipped about it. He just said Fai needed and wanted help and that was all that was important right now.

Subaru had finally stopped crying, at least.

He'd been crying off and on since the night of the concert, really. He was pretty sure he'd lost his brand-new job because he'd cried so hard during one of his shifts that they'd had to send him home and he'd said he might not be able to come back for a few days. It was December. You didn't take emergency leave from customer service jobs in December. He was probably fired.

He couldn't help it, though. He just kept thinking this was his fault. He didn't have to tell them what he'd found in Fai's bathroom. He could have tried to confront Fai in private. He should have somehow been more trustworthy to Fai before this. He should have already known. He should have been able to do something about this months ago. None of them should have let Fai put so much pressure on himself over this concert that he got so sick. There were so many things to feel guilty about that Subaru barely knew where to start.

That wasn't even getting into how much Subaru didn't want to lose him. Fai had become something more than just a friend, and Subaru hadn't even realized it until Fai was being rushed away in an ambulance. Fai was family, somehow. And he'd let him down. Subaru had let him down, or this wouldn't have happened.

The atmosphere in the room shifted strangely, and Subaru looked up with a gasp. Fai's blue eyes blinked at him.

“Hey, kiddo,” he rasped. “I think I might have scared you a little. Sorry.”

Subaru's tears were all spent, it seemed. The grief was there, ever-present, but he didn't have anything left for crying.

“Fai, I'm sorry,” he murmured. “This is my fault, I shouldn't have—”

“No,” Fai interrupted him immediately. “No, don't do that. You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Think stuff is your fault. It's not. Listen, I'm glad you found the drugs, and I'm glad you told them. Okay? It's . . . going to be better this way. I'm kind of glad it's all out in the open.”

“I could have been a better friend,” Subaru said, anxious that Fai should understand his shortcomings and not think of himself as the only person to blame. “I could have been somebody you could talk to.”

“Oh, Subaru,” Fai sighed. “No. I was just . . . I've got a lot of fucked-up ideas about myself to sort out. That's not your fault. I thought I could handle this on my own, without hurting you, and I couldn't and my inability to do it has hurt you more than anything.”

Subaru sighed, and Fai just laid still and breathed carefully, and then Subaru shook his head.

“You know?” he said slowly. “Maybe let's stop trying to figure out whose fault it is.”

Fai looked like he wanted to laugh, but he didn't. He was probably a little afraid to, after what happened last time he woke up.

“I'd rather just talk about how glad I am that you're awake and I get to see you again. Fai, I was so scared. I thought I would lose you.”

“No great loss,” Fai murmured.

“Don't you dare _say that_ ,” Subaru snapped. He was surprised by himself, but his therapist kept telling him not to apologize for his feelings and to let himself get angry if he wanted to be angry. So he kept going anyway. “Don't you dare try to say that you're not important to me, or to the others, because you _are_. We care about you. You don't get to get close to us and then try to turn around and say we wouldn't miss you! You're . . . Fai, you've meant so much to me and Kamui, don't you know that? You're _family_ to me.”

Fai rasped out a very weak chuckle. “According to Kurogane, I'm your mother.”

Mother. He had one of those, but she hadn't done a good job and he hadn't known how badly he wished there had been someone else. A mom, a real one. It felt like something was breaking in him, but maybe it was something that needed to be broken, because it felt kind of good. Maybe Fai was the closest he'd ever get to having a mother who truly cared about him and supported him. Maybe that was pretty damn close.

“Would you be?” Subaru asked. Oops, there were the tears, he found them. “Would you be, if you could?”

Fai's face was sinking into a terrible grief. “I have fucked up beyond belief, haven't I?” he murmured. “Subaru, you can't want me to be your family. I'm an idiot. And a drug addict.”

“You're my family,” was all Subaru could say. “And I love you.”

Fai covered his eyes with his hand. “I love you too, kiddo. I'm so sorry. Hey, come here.”

Subaru pulled his chair close to the bed so Fai could hold his hand.

“At some point I need you to tell me exactly how bad things are out there,” Fai said. “But I think for now I'd just like to pretend nothing exists outside of this room. Just you and me, okay?”

Subaru squeezed his hand. “We can do that if you want, but it's not so bad.”

“It isn't?”

“We didn't tell anybody. The only person who knows except the band is the doctor who treated you when you came in. Nobody at Piffle knows, and it's not getting out to the media. We want you to be safe. This is already going to be hard enough without having to deal with that.”

“What are you going to tell Piffle, or the media, or whoever?”

“You've got pneumonia, Fai. Isn't that enough?”

“I mean, what are you going to tell them about me leaving the band?”

Subaru's heart skipped a beat, and he had to take a few deep breaths before he could even speak. He honestly hadn't seen that coming. “Fai, why are you leaving the band? What's wrong?”

“What do you mean, what's wrong?”

“I mean, why would you quit? Is that what's been making you so withdrawn? You don't want to do this anymore? Oh my god, Fai, why wouldn't you say . . . But I thought. I just thought, you know, that you loved doing this. We all thought you . . .”

“Am I . . . _not_ kicked out?”

That was when Sakura suddenly walked into the room. None of them thought Fai would regain consciousness for at least a few more hours, and Subaru suddenly realized that she had said she'd be here around this time so he could go home and shower and get something to eat. He didn't have the ability to focus on her, though. He was too busy being completely floored.

“What?” Subaru gasped. “No. What? Kicked _out_?”

“Isn't that . . . aren't you guys, um, really disgusted and disappointed and everything? I'm not exactly reliable, and I'm going to pull you guys down, so . . .”

Sakura stomped her way over to the bed in her gigantic boots. “Fai,  _oh my god_ .”

“What?”

“We love you, stupid, that's what,” she said fiercely. “Did you really think we were just going to drop you over this?”

“I . . . um . . .”

Subaru slapped his hand over his face in exasperation. He could hardly judge Fai for feeling that way, because he'd probably feel the same if the roles were reversed. But it was so silly. Right after he'd finished saying how much he needed Fai in his life?

“Fai, no. There is no Paper Cranes without you, there just isn't. We'd never leave you behind, no matter what. Who the hell else is going to write the songs and sing them, huh?”

“Kurogane,” Fai replied promptly.

They both stared at him.

He shrugged. “He might keep saying he doesn't want to perform again, but take it from the guy who's been dating him: he misses music. He's really talented. For fuck's sake, half of this band was his first. I kinda saw this coming someday, anyway. So it's fine. Let him take over. You don't have to be nice to me just because I'm in the hospital. I know how this goes. It's been great to work with me, but I'm not what the band needs anymore.”

Sakura burst into tears. “I can't believe you really think that,” she said.

Subaru wasn't sure who needed his comfort more. He wished it was possible to hug himself, at this point. He put a hand on Sakura's back as a substitute.

“Fai, you and Kurogane should probably like, _actually talk_ about that, because clearly you haven't, but I promise you right now that it's never going to happen like that. Leaving aside what Kurogane might or might not want, that's not going to happen. Because like Subaru said: there's no Paper Cranes without you. We wouldn't be us. You're part of us, and we could never be the same without you. You matter to us. You have an amazing gift, and we love sharing it with you. I could never get on stage and say I'm part of the Paper Cranes if you weren't up there with me.”

Fai was crying.

“I'm not going to lie and say nobody's disappointed over this. But Fai, we're not stupid. We all know you don't just trip over a crack in the sidewalk and fall into drug addiction, and you're not crazy enough to have done it on purpose. You needed help, and you didn't get it, and we're disappointed in _ourselves_ for that. We're not really thrilled that you made bad choices, okay? But if you say you're sorry, then we believe you.”

“Oh god, I am,” Fai choked. “I am so, so sorry.”

“We want to help you. We want you back, the old Fai, the one who trusts us and wants to spend time with us and isn't tired and sad and anxious all the time. We love you no matter what. But I can't tell you how much we want you to be happy and healthy.”

Sakura was clinging to Subaru's hand, but he peeled her off so he could go to Fai. He sat down beside him on the bed and drew him into a hug.

“I can't imagine playing without you,” he murmured, his heart aching. “I can't imagine you not being around. I'm going to do whatever I have to do to make sure I don't lose you. Tell me what you need, Fai. Just tell us what you need and we'll do everything we can to make sure you get it.”

Fai didn't say anything, not then. He just grabbed Subaru in a bruising grip and wouldn't let go until he grew exhausted and fell asleep again.

 

* * *

 

Fai kept waking up and finding members of the band in the room, and he was getting less and less surprised as it kept happening. It was only a matter of time before he'd be confronted by the newest member, so he should have expected her at some point. He offered Tomoyo a weak smile as he blinked his way awake.

“Hi,” Tomoyo said brightly, barely even looking up from the fuzzy pink yarn and knitting needles that were doing a complicated dance in her lap. “Welcome to consciousness.”

“Thanks? I guess. I'm thrilled to be here?”

“Are you?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.

He winced. “Nope. Should we dive right into the conversation about how pissed you are and how you're not joining the band after all, or should we attempt pleasantries first?”

She let the needles rest and looked at him. “I am brimming with pleasantries, you know. Fai, I don't want to talk about anger and what's going to happen with the band at the moment. I want to tell you that you're loved and cared for and I'm here for you. You're probably tired of hearing that, by now, but I wanted you to know it includes me.”

“I am tired of hearing that,” he blurted out. “I need to know where everybody stands and what they think and I can't relax and nobody wants to talk about it, they just keep saying that they love me and I need more than that.”

His chest was heaving.

“Can I have some water?” he asked meekly.

“I'll ask,” Tomoyo said, giving him a genuine smile like she hadn't even heard his outburst. She set her yarn down and went to the door to call down at the nurse's station. “They'll bring some in just a second,” she answered as she came back in.

Fai frowned. “I haven't peed in days. Oh god, am I on a catheter?”

Tomoyo's face froze in a parody of the original smile. “I don't know. I can ask about that too. I would walk around the side of the bed and check, but I'd rather not know if I don't have to.”

“No, I didn't ask that,” he said desperately, making wild hand gestures designed to reel the question back in. “Life is fine without knowing the answer to that question, woohoo.”

Tomoyo was giggling into her hand. Fai wanted the bed to sink into the floor and disappear.

“So,” she said, changing the subject back to where they'd started, “I guess I can understand why you are feeling a little uneasy, but I'm not sure you understand how everybody else is feeling. Fai, you almost died.”

“I almost what?”

“Did you not realize that?”

“I've been a little out of it? But maybe I should have guessed things were pretty serious when they stuck a hose into my chest.”

“Your fever spiked at one hundred and five right after we got you here. The doctors told us you might not make it through the night. You barely regained consciousness at all for two days. From what I hear, they just took you off oxygen this morning? So we all got a little freaked out, I think. That's why none of us will leave until the next person shows up. We just want someone to be here with you, telling you how much we love you, all the time.”

“What, around the clock?”

“I think Kurogane hasn't exactly . . . slept. Recently. Also, guess who was here just before me?”

“Kurogane?”

“No, some guy named Shizuka. He says he thinks you're dumber than the guys he dates. I don't know what that means, but he says you will. He also says he'll come back soon so he can tell you in person that you're not allowed to die.”

Fai chuckled, and winced. Yep, that still hurt.

“So, you really don't want to talk about how bad I screwed everything up for you? What have you told Joffrey?”

“I haven't told Joffrey anything, love,” she replied calmly, returning to her knitting. “I didn't know if there was a band for me to leave them for.”

“And if there is?”

“I decided to work with you for a lot of reasons, and most of them haven't changed. If there's a band, I want in on it.”

“I . . . I think there's a band,” he said cautiously. “Although we might be taking a little break right now.”

She tittered. “A little break sounds like a good idea.”

“So what are you knitting?”

“A hat.”

“I thought you didn't really like to wear pink.”

She shrugged, but her cheeks were flushing. “It's not for me.”

“Who's it for?” He knew who it was for. He _knew_ it.

“Sakura said she accidentally lost her favourite hat at school, so I'm making her one for a Christmas present. I needed something to do with my hands, and I didn't think the nurses would appreciate me practicing violin in here.”

“Oh, it's for Sakura,” Fai said, his voice lilting. He grinned and she blushed harder.

“So?”

“So you like her,” he crooned. “I knew it, I knew it, I am _good—_ ”

“Ugh, stop,” she groaned. “This is my first crush on a straight girl and I want to mope in peace.”

He couldn't stop grinning. He was just so happy that there _was_ something to feel happy about. He'd hoped, suspected, believed, and here it was. His two best girls.

“Oh, sweetie, I'm not saying she's not straight, but I'm not _not_ saying it either. She hasn't said anything to me. But I have heard _rumors_.”

Tomoyo perked right up at that. “What kind of rumors?”

“I can't say. Just give it a try? For me?”

“Pfffttt,” she muttered, still blushing. “If I give it a try, I'm doing it for _me_ , buddy.”

 

* * *

 

Fai was alone when Kurogane arrived at the hospital, which was so unusual that he actually blurted out, “Where is everybody?”

Fai chuckled as he muted the television. “Touya was here a few minutes ago, but I kicked him out.”

“What did he do?” Kurogane asked suspiciously. He loved Touya too deeply to express, but the guy was occasionally a little ruthless. Not like Fai wasn't capable of defending himself. But hell, the guy was basically at rock bottom right now, and Kurogane was allowed to feel a little over-protective.

“Nothing,” Fai said, but there was an amused smile on his face.

“What?”

“It was just a funny conversation. He said, 'I can't fire you because I'm not your boss, but I am telling you that you'd better not fuck this up because Kurogane is my family and I kill people for my family.' I think I just got some twisted version of the shovel speech.”

Kurogane groaned. “He's got shitty timing.”

Fai just chuckled again, but he was doing that thing where he didn't think it was funny at all and he was only laughing because he didn't want anybody to know how upset he was. Kurogane really hated that thing. “It's pointless, now.”

“Why?”

“I kind of figured you were breaking up with me.”

Kurogane sighed. Deeply. “You're assuming shit again. How have you  _not_ learned at any time during the five days you have been in the hospital that you cannot assume this shit?”

“For one thing, I was unconscious the first three days. And for another, are you seriously _not_ breaking up with me?”

Kurogane dropped into the chair and ran his hands through his hair. “I don't . . . know.”

“Then maybe I'm breaking up with you,” Fai said shortly.

“No, look, it's just . . . I don't actually know what's going on with you. At all. I don't know where your head is at, or what your plans are after you're released from the hospital. I don't know what you want or need from me. I don't know what I want or need from you. I'm not saying I don't want to speak to you ever again. I'm saying I don't know.”

“Then what are you even doing here?” Fai muttered.

Kurogane might try to deny that it hurt out loud, but he didn't lie in the privacy of his own mind. It hurt. He wanted Fai to talk to him about this, and here he was shutting him out again.

“You kicking me out, too?”

Fai sighed and stabbed the power button on his television remote to turn the whole thing off. “I just wanted to be alone. I've had company every second I've been awake, and it's been one emotional shitshow after another. I seriously just wanted a break.”

Kurogane stood up, feeling both angry and absurdly guilty. “Yeah, I get that. Sorry I came at a bad time. I'll come back later.”

“No, Kurogane . . .” Fai sighed. Deeply. “Stay. Please?”

Kurogane didn't even know if he should, but he sat back down.

“I'm a grumpy fuck,” Fai said plainly. “Because I'm going through withdrawal and nobody's giving me any space. So I'm sorry if I'm being mean.”

Kurogane felt his mouth twist up into a smile. “Yeah, I get that, too. Really, if you want space, I can come back later.”

“It's oddly easy to forget that you have been through something like this,” Fai said, his face blanching with sudden guilt.

Kurogane shrugged it off. AA, grief counseling, meditation with Shizuka, it had all added up to give him a lot of that fabled serenity about shit in his life. He was grateful for it. He knew he'd been an angry kid, an angry young man, and maybe he'd rather have found the whole inner peace thing some other, less painful way. But at least he could be the steady one, now. Somebody had to be. And he knew better, now, than to let shame about his past keep him from speaking up when he needed to.

“I've lost family. I've been under a lot of pressure to succeed. I've been through addiction. That doesn't mean I know how you feel or what you need right now. I want to help, but you have to tell me what that looks like. Honestly, our future as a couple is the last thing you probably need to be thinking about right now. I'm okay with putting that off, for a while, if you are. I . . . I'm your friend, Fai. Okay?”

Fai wouldn't look at him.

“It's okay if you don't want to talk right now. If you really want me to stay, we can chill out and watch t.v. If you want me to go, that's okay.”

Fai shook his head. “I haven't— I don't know, I've been trying to think, but it's been hard to do. About what I want to do, I mean.”

“Fai, where did this come from?” Shit, he hadn't meant to ask that. He really hadn't. “Seriously, it's just . . . none of us understand, and we want to. I want to. Why? What happened?”

Fai was definitely not looking at him. “I was using in college. For a while. I was able to get clean on my own, and I stayed that way for a long time. This year, though. Just, fuck. This year has been really hard on me, and we were out on tour and I couldn't afford some kind of breakdown, so I just . . . did it. And I was trying to get clean again, I've been trying ever since we got back, I thought I was— but then we got invited to the concert and I just— I t-tried . . .”

“They put a lot of pressure on you, but only because you let them,” Kurogane said, as gently as he could. He didn't know whether to be upset at what he was hearing, or just over the moon that Fai was finally opening up. Then he just dove headfirst into the reason he was here. “Fai, the kids told me what you said. About how you thought I'd take over the band.”

Fai winced, but didn't say anything.

“That's been on your mind for a long time, hasn't it? You've been going along thinking that if you step one toe out of place or write one song that doesn't go over well, and you're out. You think I'm just sitting around waiting for you to screw up so I can take over or something. Don't you?”

“Can I have some water?” Fai muttered.

There was a tall plastic cup with a straw sitting on the sliding table thing. Kurogane grabbed it and held it out for him. His hands were shaking, so Kurogane kept hold of it and put it close to his mouth so he could drink. He did, but his eyes were closed and there was a sickened look on his face.

“Obviously I can't fucking handle the stress of the job,” Fai said after he was satiated, or finished stalling, or both. “And it's pretty obvious to me, even if it's not to you, that you really do miss playing and singing. This was your dream before it was mind. I know you needed some time away from it, but—”

“I'm gonna stop you there,” Kurogane said dully. “Fuck. I guess I thought Touya would have told you all of this already. But that was dumb of me, because he wouldn't tell people my business like that.”

“What are you talking about?”

This was really the last thing Kurogane wanted to be talking about, not right now, not when he'd been scared that Fai was going to die only two days ago. This conversation didn't really get easier over time, and having it with this man in particular was going to be brutal. But it had to be done, and he saw that now. He had wanted to put it off, or maybe never have it at all and just trust Fai to start understanding him in spite of that. Maybe that was dumb of him.

“You've been around my family so much that I honestly figured you must have picked up most of this for yourself, but I shouldn't have assumed that. I had no idea you were going to come up with something as harebrained as this, so I didn't think I needed to talk about this with you until I was . . . ready.”

“You don't have to,” Fai said, and his face was soft. “Whatever it is, it's hurting you. My idiotic ideas and my emotional meltdowns are my own problem, and you don't need to be hurting yourself to fix it.”

Kurogane blew out a breath, and found another wry smile on his face. “You still think you're a bad person?”

Fai made a face at him.

“No, seriously. You've gotten this really wrong, and just, fuck, I don't know. Fai, I really— you are— Shit. I want you to know this. I want you to know everything about me, eventually. I want . . . well, that can wait. For now, we're having this conversation.”

He wanted a life. With this guy. With this stupid guy who hurt himself so badly just trying to keep other people happy. Who cared so fucking deeply that he couldn't even cope with it. Kurogane didn't know how they could possibly make this work, the two of them, but he wanted it. If it was even possible anymore.

“I don't want there to be any room for doubt in your mind, after this. About me ever wanting your job, I mean. For one thing, there is no Paper Cranes without Fai Fluorite, and everybody knows it. For another, I just do not want it. Are you okay for a while? Do you need to rest, or can you listen to this?”

“I can listen,” Fai answered, but only after a long moment of hesitation. The hesitation kind of made Kurogane feel better, because at least Fai was taking it seriously.

There was nothing for it but to just start. “I wanted to be in a rock band ever since I was twelve years old.” He fumbled for more words. “I finally felt like I could do it when I was about seventeen and realized the music I was writing was pretty good. I already had talented friends.”

“Touya and Yukito.”

“Yeah. I thought we had everything we needed. Good musicians and my serious attitude problem.”

Fai giggled a little.

“We started college, but we dropped out after a year. We were getting recognized. You know that. You said you were there.”

Fai nodded, which meant he'd been at one of their open mic nights or some dingy club where they played to an audience of seventy. They had bigger performances after the record deal, but not many.

“The others were having fun, but I was not in a good place. To be honest, the band itself wasn't good for me. I was using the work and the music to cover up a lot of things I should have been dealing with. A lot of anger and hurt. It made good music, but it didn't make a good person.”

“You really think you're not?” Fai asked, looking oddly devastated.

Kurogane could barely begin to answer that. “Tch. I'm glad you didn't know me back then. I was an asshole.”

“Somehow, I can believe that,” Fai said dryly.

“Thanks a lot.”

“Sorry for interrupting. Keep going.”

“Yeah, fine. So. I was an alcoholic, something that had been coming since I first started partying back when I was in high school. I knew it. Everyone knew it. It was affecting my performances and it was affecting my family. I wasn't showing up to practices when I said I would. I was unprepared for our shows. I was leaving Syaoran hanging when I said I'd be around. I was drunk . . . all the time. It was just what I thought I had to do.”

“Why?” Fai whispered.

Kurogane didn't want to answer that, but he was sitting here having this conversation with someone who had desperately clung to him and begged for help with his own drug problems just two days ago. Fai needed to feel understood, and there weren't any support groups that met in hospital rooms. Hell, he'd talked about this with complete strangers at AA meetings, already. Maybe just this once he could manage to do it for the sake of somebody he cared about.

“I didn't know how to be cared about. I didn't know how to believe that I deserved it. I had to push it all away and pick fights and distract myself. There was so much pain and frustration in me and I didn't know how to get it out of me.”

He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. Fuck, this still hurt. It wasn't fair that it could still hurt this much.

“I was just so damn afraid all the time. That I wasn't good enough, that I would never be good enough. That I didn't deserve good things, normal things, that I would never measure up or get it right. That my whole existence was only justified if I gave myself away. I was just a total fucking mess.”

“Oh, god, Kurogane. Stop. It's okay. I— I get it.” Fai covered his mouth with his hand, and Kurogane was afraid for a minute that he'd start coughing, that he'd choke again, but he just let out a whimpering cry. “Fuck, I'm sorry. But I . . . that's what it's like, that's so much what it's like. I hate myself so much for fucking up, but I can't stop believing that's all I'm capable of doing. I get it. You can stop.”

Kurogane shook his head, even though something in his chest was breaking. “I don't want to stop. I really want you to know what happened, and I want you to understand. This is something I haven't talked about with anyone who didn't already know me, before.”

“Is that you asking me to keep this to myself?”

Kurogane glared at him. “I know you'll keep this to yourself, smartass. I'm saying this is fucking hard because you're gonna know what my rock bottom looks like after this and it's hard to think about losing your respect because it means a lot to me.”

Fai let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Oh, god, sorry. It's just, I can't believe you're saying that to  _me_ . I'm the one who nearly died of pneumonia because I genuinely believed my friends cared more about the success of the concert than my personal wellbeing. Actually, let's face it, I nearly died of pneumonia because of the complications brought on by illegal substance abuse. I don't know what you're going to tell me that's supposed to be worse than that.”

Kurogane gave him a frank look. “You telling me you respect yourself?”

Fai went very quiet for a moment. “Okay, point made,” he said softly. “But I'd still like to hear what you have to say. I believe that I will still respect you afterwards.”

Kurogane nodded, because his choices were stop or keep going and he hadn't come this far to stall out. “So. I was supposed to drive my brother and Sakura home from that show.”

The way Fai's eyes went wide told Kurogane that he knew which show Kurogane meant. The last show they ever played. He looked right into Fai's eyes, because he wasn't about to flinch away from the truth. It hurt like hell, but it had happened and there was no changing that, just accepting it.

“I was drunk on stage. I made a mess of the show. Syaoran and I got into a fight, a really ugly fight, and he had to call one of his buddies from high school to pick them up. The kid had gotten his license maybe a week before that. It was late, the road was covered in ice. Me, I knew how to handle road conditions like that. I could have gotten them home safely.”

He had to pause for breathing. It had been a while since he had to focus on breathing, long enough that he'd thought he didn't need to do it anymore. But the stuff Shizuka had taught him was still there, ingrained in him. He counted the seconds for each breath and focused on the sound. Fai stayed patient and quiet until he was ready to continue.

“My brother is dead because I was too drunk and too angry to drive him home,” Kurogane said. It was literally the first time he'd ever had to say it aloud, and he clutched at the tattoo on his chest like that could make it hurt less. “It took me years to finally realize that I wasn't supposed to have as much responsibility over that kid as I did have, and that's on our mom for being a crappy parent. But it doesn't change the fact that I had a responsibility that night, and I blew it being selfish. Sakura was in traction for six weeks and in a physical therapy clinic for six more. I got to apologize to her for not being responsible, and I got her forgiveness for the fact that she's disabled because of that. But my baby brother died on impact and I never got to tell him I was sorry.”

Fai was crying, silent tears streaming down his face. Kurogane still wasn't able to cry when he talked about the accident. He wanted to be able to, someday. Syaoran deserved tears, when he managed to find them.

“I lost it, Fai. You know, _it_ , the music, the thing that makes you wake up at three a.m. to write down lyrics. Maybe it was just part of all that anger, because I lost that, too. For a while there, my whole world was guilt and grief and just— feeling like I was not allowed to have anything good ever again.”

Fai grabbed his hand, and Kurogane realized that Fai knew that feeling just as well as he did. He wasn't quite finished talking, but at least what he had to say from here wasn't as hard to say.

“Now, I'm _better_ if you want to call it that. I've worked hard to be. I feel like I'm allowed to have my own family and be happy and stop punishing myself. But getting back on stage?” He snorted. “I don't even want it. I don't know _how_ to want it. I lost that, it's gone. I don't want it back. Do I miss playing music? Yeah, kinda. Someday I want to work on that and maybe get to where I can play a guitar again. Do I miss being on stage and performing? Not at all. I never want to do that again.”

Fai held his hand silently for a few minutes, then he started whispering something to himself. It took Kurogane a minute to make sense of the hissing syllables.

“You idiot, you idiot, you idiot . . .”

“Fai.”

“I am so sorry,” he blurted out. “I am such an idiot and I can't believe I made you have to relive all that pain when I know how bad it feels. I am such a piece of _shit_ —”

Kurogane pinched the skin on his hand.

“Ow!”

“I'd totally punch you if you weren't in the hospital,” Kurogane said severely. “You didn't make me do anything, so knock it off. We needed that. If we have any hope of a relationship after this, even friendship, we had to do that. There's no way we could move forward if you spent the whole time believing I was going to force you out of your own band or just . . . not knowing who I really am. And that band _is_ yours. Even Touya and Yukito would tell you that.”

“Oh, god, Kurogane, I'm so sorry,” Fai said. “I just . . . wish you hadn't gone through that, I wish you hadn't suffered like that, I wish— I'm glad you're better now. You're so much stronger than I am.”

Kurogane pinched his hand again, harder this time.

“Fucking ow!”

“Comparisons are bullshit and I know you're not weak, so it's time to prove it.”

Fai's eyes went a little darker at that. “Prove it how?”

“You can't go back and fix anything that happened before. And you don't need to tell me what it all was. The only thing you can do is sit still, or move forward. What's it going to be?”

Fai gave him a sickly smile. “I'm going to rehab. I'm already looking at clinics.”

“When?”

“As soon as I can. I . . . I'm scared. The hospital wants to release me on Christmas Eve, and there isn't anything open for new patients until after the New Year. I don't want to be by myself, I don't want to go home, I just— fuck.”

Kurogane nodded. “No, it's okay. I get that. What about the twins?”

“I don't want to let them down, but I don't want them to feel like it's their job to— to babysit me. If I— If I slip up, I don't want them ever thinking it was their fault.”

Kurogane wasn't sure this was a great idea, but he said it anyway. “You want me to stay at your place with you?”

Fai looked startled. Yeah, no shit he looked startled. Physically, they hadn't even moved off his damn front porch yet. Maybe Fai didn't want to let him hang out in the house because he didn't want Kurogane discovering drugs, but Kurogane had thought it was more about them just not being ready to be that physical yet.

“I'm talking about sleeping on your couch or something,” Kurogane confirmed. “We're not exactly in a good place to make _that_ decision right now.”

Fai just gave him a bewildered look. “I don't even know what place we're in? Are you seriously still interested in me?”

Kurogane just made Fai shift over so he could stretch out beside him on the bed. He was careful not to disturb any of Fai's delightful medical accessories. Fai smelled sweaty and like chemicals and he really needed to wash his hair, but Kurogane pressed his face close and breathed him in despite that.

“If you still are,” he finally said. “Then yeah.”

He hadn't noticed that Fai was shivering until he was so close. His skin felt damp and clammy, too.

“Fever or withdrawal?” he murmured, sliding an arm behind him and holding him closer.

Fai's teeth were chattering. “What's the difference?” Then he whimpered. “Oh gooooood. Definitely withdrawal. I forgot how much this sucks.”

“I got you,” Kurogane said, rubbing Fai's cold, bare arms. “You can ride this out. You can do this. What can I do to help?”

“Just. I don't know. Can you turn on the t.v.? The noise is kind of nice. But not a lot of noise? Too loud gives me a headache.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Kurogane said, and reached for the remote.

“Just do that, and don't go anywhere.”

“I'm not. I'm right here.”

 

* * *

 

_(five years ago)_

 

“Just take them,” Fai said, dangling the keys in front of Souma's face. “You can even drive it, if you want. I just need to know where it is without actually having access to it, okay?”

“Fai, I have never understood you and I never will,” Souma said frankly, and snatched the keys away. “How long?”

“A week, maybe?” Fai guessed. He had no idea. None.

“Fine, whatever. But at least text me or something.”

“Yeah, I will. Souma . . . thank you.”

Fai left his coworker frowning at him and exited the bar. He'd finally moved his way up to bartender and was working behind the counter with Souma because the money was way better than waiting tables. He'd practiced really hard before they'd let him start working back there, but he'd done it. And now he was taking a week off, and he didn't know if it was going to hurt him, if they'd stick him back to waiting tables for it. Souma might even push for it. She was going to be working extra hard to make up for his absence.

But he had to do it. Even if it was kind of stupid, even if he could just tell her he wanted the car back anytime, or take the bus, or whatever. He just really hoped that taking whatever measures he could would add up.

He called Ashura on his walk home.

“Hello?”

“Ashura?” he murmured, feeling like a little kid.

“Mr. Fai Fluorite, I haven't heard your voice in far too long. I'm glad you called.”

“Yeah, I'm—I'm sorry, things have been kinda messed up,” Fai mumbled.

There was a long silence, and then Ashura suddenly made a choking noise. “Your mom passed, didn't she?”

“Yeah. The hospital called me about half an hour ago.”

“Oh, Fai, I'm so sorry. What can I do?”

“Ashura, I need help,” he squeezed out. “I don't know how to plan a funeral. I don't know what to do. How do I even start? I . . .”

“Your mom already took care of all that,” Ashura broke in. “I helped her, actually. Fai, you don't need to worry about a thing, you understand? Your mom didn't want to put that on you. She already had a plan and had the money set aside for it, and she told me exactly how to handle things.”

“She did?” All that time she was sick, suffering . . . she'd been worried about him and his screw-ups and he'd felt so, so guilty for that. He hadn't even known how much she was worrying about him. “Oh, Mom.”

“I'm going to schedule the service for six days from now, okay? You don't need to do anything except be there. I'll handle the arrangements. If you want to be involved, you have every right. But if you want this week to be alone and grieve for your mom, you can do that, too. I'll handle it.”

“Ashura—” he choked.

He didn't know what to say. Ashura shouldn't have to do this. Ashura was going to be grieving too even if Freya was only his friend and not his mother. Fai should be involved and he was a bad son for dumping this off on someone else, wasn't he? But he didn't know what to do, and there was no way he could take care of all those details. Not this week. Not right now.

“Ashura, yes, please. Oh god, thank you.”

“You just call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will.”

“Good boy. You're not trying to work this week, are you?”

“No, no, I already told my boss. I was on my home when they called me and all I could think was that I needed to stop at work and tell my boss. So I did that. I'm on my way home now.”

“Fai, take care of yourself, please. I'm going to tell everybody not to do the casserole thing and hang on the doorbell bothering you, but you have to promise to take care of yourself.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Go home and rest,” Ashura said gently. “I loved your mom, and I'm going to miss her very much. I love you, too. Call me.”

“Okay,” Fai whispered, and hung up.

He took the battery out of his phone as soon as he walked into the house. He left it in the kitchen, and he walked directly to his bathroom. He found the small supply of cocaine he kept in there, and he flushed it down the toilet. He sat down on the bathroom floor and waited for the sweating to start.

And then he endured the week.

He spent a lot of time pacing the house tugging at his hair, or standing in the shower gasping against needling hot spray. He argued with himself, most of the time. He told himself that Mom was dead and he should be focusing on that—that as long as he wasn't actively strung out at the funeral, he'd done well. He didn't need to do this to himself. But it wasn't true, was it? Mom deserved better than that. Mom had put so much of herself into him and he was _such a piece of shit_ for waiting until now to give anything back.

He had to remind himself a lot that Yasha couldn't give him any real comfort. He could go to his apartment and fall into his arms, but ultimately it would be meaningless. Their relationship had been a joke from the beginning. The things Yasha had said were not true and he knew that. But as he shook and cried and screamed his way through the week, he kept thinking about him. The past year of his life had been nothing but one mistake after another, and Yasha . . .

Yasha had never been the problem. Fai was the problem. Yasha was right about him and trying to tell himself otherwise was just putting on blinders so he didn't have to see it.

But he didn't need to be right. Fai could change it, he could fix it. He could. He'd been spending all his time lately cleaning up his messes, and this was just another one that was his responsibility.

He woke up on the morning of his mother's funeral feeling exhausted and hollow. She was gone, and he had ruined everything, and there was nothing for him to get back. But he was clean, because she deserved that. Mom deserved a better son, and all she got was him, and he could at least try to suck less.

He buttoned a white shirt up to his throat and looped a blue tie around. For a second, it felt too noose-like and his hands started shaking. He'd thought about it a hundred times over the week. Who was he fighting for, if Mom was gone and Yasha never cared? Why did it matter if he did anything after the funeral except drive his car into the river?

He jammed the battery back into his phone and waited for it to update. He listened to six different messages from Ashura about the time and place and details of the funeral, and he got on his computer to figure out where he was going. It didn't take long before he was setting out with his black suit jacket slung over his shoulder. Back to the bar. Souma would have left the car there, she wouldn't have taken it home. With any luck, she'd already be coming in to cover the shift he should be working. She often came in early to help Kendappa with paperwork.

He walked into the cool, dark air of the place and stood still for a moment to let his eyes adjust. He was slightly blindsided by Souma throwing herself onto him.

“Fai!”

He rocked, but held steady. He didn't reach out for her to return the embrace. He felt queerly numb. He didn't understand why. Everything this week had hurt so much, so maybe there just wasn't anything left to feel.

“The boss lady told me about your mom,” Souma murmured, her hands patting softly at him. It felt weird, like a random kitten just batting him around like a toy. “I'm so sorry, Fai. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said shortly. “I need the car back now.”

She looked him over, the dark suit and the dark circles from not sleeping. She always had sharp eyes and he wondered if she could see the five pounds he'd sweated off and his belt pulled to the last notch. He'd already been losing too much weight lately, and he feared he just looked sick now instead of thin. She definitely could see where he was going in the car, dressed like this on a Thursday.

She looked almost as tired as he did.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” she said carefully. “And I want to tell you to take your time coming back to work, but I really kinda hope you don't. I lost my parents a couple of years ago, and it was . . . Going back to work felt better than staying home, honestly.”

“I'm sorry that happened to you,” he said automatically. He was, but there was a thick wall of cotton batting between his brain and his heart, and he couldn't make the feeling come out in his voice.

“And I just . . . I'm going crazy here without you, Fai. I need you back.”

“You need me?”

“Desperately.”

Fai nodded, and said, “Tell Kendappa I'll be here for my usual shift tomorrow night, okay?”

The flash of relief in her eyes almost wormed its way through the cotton. “Okay. But only if you're sure.”

“I'm sure,” he said quickly, surprising himself.

“Then we'll see you tomorrow, Fai. But you let us know if it gets to be too much, if you can't work the whole shift and need to cut out early, okay?”

“Yeah, I will.” He caught the car keys when she tossed them up in the air between them. “Thanks, Souma.”

“Anytime, buddy.”

He got in his car and drove and felt weirder than ever. He'd just promised to be somewhere tomorrow night, even though he was quite certain he'd been thinking about not actually being alive tomorrow. Did that mean he wanted to keep going? Did that mean he thought there was something left to keep working for?

“It just means you're a piece of shit and if somebody needs you, you had better show up because it's all the fucking salvation you're going to get,” he said aloud to himself, looking at his gaunt face in his rearview mirror. He laughed, a little too wild to actually sound like laughter.

He called Ashura on the way, just to say he was on the way and say thank you for handling things. Ashura assured him that he wanted to do anything to make this easier for Fai.

It was on the tip of Fai's tongue to ask, _“Then could you send all the mourners home so I can be alone with Mom?”_ but he managed to restrain himself.

Ashura met him at the door and gathered him up into his arms. Fai almost broke there. He wanted so much to tear the cotton away from his heart with desperate, clawing fingers, to scream that he needed him. To scream that after ten years of getting help with his homework and getting music lessons and talking about his day and his dreams and ten years of laughing at their kitchen table while Mom and Kohaku made tea . . . to scream that he needed a father today and could Ashura please, please do that for him?

He didn't. He pressed his face to Ashura's shoulder, took a deep breath, and pulled away.

“Thank you,” he said. “I need to . . . I need to do today my own way, and I'm probably gonna look rude to everybody else. I'm sorry.”

“They'll understand,” Ashura said, with the confidence of the first chair violinist of the Chicago Philharmonic. Half the orchestra was here to mourn her. She'd been first chair cellist for ten years, so that made sense. Fai had never seen the gathered crowd of them as so intimidating before now, though. “You do this however you need to. Did you prepare anything to say during the service? There's some time set aside for you to do that, if you'd like.”

“Yeah. It's . . . it's short.”

“That's fine.”

He'd wanted to write a song, but he couldn't find any music. It seemed to be missing. He hadn't been able to write anything in months. Kohaku was probably going to play something, anyway. He checked the program and saw that Ashura and Kohaku were both going to play Mom's favourite solos for them.

He was wooden the whole time. Kohaku tried to hug him, but he rebuffed her. Tomoyo, just as cute as she'd been a year ago but looking solemn, tried to hold his hand, but he could barely hear what she said.

He needed to be alone. He was supposed to be alone. He'd screwed up and he'd broken Mom's heart so bad when he should have been with her. He'd made so many mistakes. Yeah, he was trying to fix them, of course he was. But these people shouldn't love him as if he hadn't made any. He didn't deserve that.  And it was too late.  Mom died before he got it together and she'd never know and he'd never get to fix things with the person who really mattered.  What did any of it mean now?

He didn't deserve anything. He wasn't anything special; he deserved to hurt.

He didn't call Ashura again after the funeral. After countless missed calls and messages, Ashura stopped calling him, too.

 


	9. Chapter 9

_Nobody seems to know my name_

_So don’t leave me to sleep all alone_

_May we stay lost on our way home?_

 

_(ten years ago)_

 

Kurogane scanned the shelves of guitar workbooks, but it was kind of hopeless since he didn't know what he was looking for. He had thought for a minute that beginner's books would be in stupid colours and have giant text in terrible font, because that would appeal to little kids or something.

It turned out that _all_ guitar books had completely hideous cover designs.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered. “I don't have all fuckin day.”

He flipped through a few in case there was a hidden gem in the back. He glanced at his watch and nearly broke out into a cold sweat at the thought of the soul-stripping lecture he would have to endure from his mother if dinner wasn't on the table when she got home.

At least Syaoran wasn't causing some kind of universe-destroying cataclysm today. Kurogane kept glancing over at the clear sound-proof glass room where you could test out guitars and keyboards. Syaoran was plucking at the strings of a guitar that was comically too big for him, wearing a frown of concentration that was just as comical in its earnestness.

And here was Kurogane, too inept to find a beginner's book for the kid.

“Can I help you.”

It was less a question than a statement, but Kurogane didn't really care. He wasn't one of those people that found slavish devotion appealing in customer service. Smiles were also overrated, and the bored-looking teenager standing next to him appeared to share the sentiment. His face was a total blank.

Also familiar, but Kurogane couldn't place him.

“Yeah, great. See that kid in there, guitar on his lap bigger than him? My kid brother. Wants to learn how to play.”

“Hnnh.”

Somehow, that was more of a question than the teenager's previous statement.

“Yeah. I've been playing, like, obsessively for three years and he doesn't even notice. Then he meets some cute little girl who likes music, and suddenly he wants to master every instrument he can get his hands on. I figured guitar was easy to start, cause like hell I'm teaching him how to actually read music. He can start with chords.”

The teenager nodded, honed in on a low shelf, and plucked out three books in the space of a few seconds. He really did look familiar. He must go to their high school, but damned if Kurogane could remember his name.

“Keep the kids' books down there so kids can find 'em,” he explained as he handed the books over. “Your parent and or guardian paying for them, or just you?”

“Huh?”

“That one's pretty expensive,” the teenager with hooded eyes elaborated, pointing at the thickest one. “But if you can spring for it, you probably don't need to get anything else for at least a few months. It's pretty comprehensive.”

Kurogane flipped it over to look at the price and grimaced.

“Yeah, figured I should mention.”

“Yeah, thanks. I mean, I could probably convince Okaasan to pay for it, but she'd give me hell first and it's not worth her bullshit.” He flipped through a few pages. “Oh, yeah, see what you mean. Good investment.”

“Mmm,” the kid said without commitment.

“I'll take this one. Thanks, man.”

“I can leave it at the counter for you.”

“Nah, we need to get going anyway. Okaasan will tear me a new one if I don't have him home and feed him dinner soon. Thanks, though.” Suddenly, the face struck him and he remembered who he was talking to.

“You're that kid from school. The one who had that thing with the _twins_. You're on the soccer team, right? Think I've seen you during my track practice.”

“Yeah, that's me. Kind of hard to fit 'the one who had that thing with the twins' on the nametag though, so around here my name is Shizuka.”

No change in the tone of voice, but Kurogane winced nevertheless. It was a clear rebuke. God, that thing with the twins was super-embarrassing, from what he heard around the school— he hadn't been able to tell them apart or something. No wonder the guy didn't like him bringing it up.

“Yeah, sorry man. Shizuka. Thanks for helping with the book.”

“No problem. Let me know how he takes to it, yeah? I think I know a couple of other books he might like after he gets through that one.”

“Yeah, cool. See you around.”

He didn't notice that the teenaged clerk's eyes lingered on him as he scooped Syaoran up in one arm, the guitar in the other, and affectionately hustled them both out of the sound-proof room.

 

* * *

 

Fuuma had a soft gray towel wrapped around his waist and was ruffling through his shower-wet hair with a second towel as he walked into the kitchen. He blinked at the sight of Kurogane standing over the stove stirring a steaming pot.

“Hey. What are you doing home?”

“See, I would say, 'I'm not allowed to cook dinner in my own house now?' but I'm not a snarky asshole like you. Fai went back to work today, he's not home until around three in the morning. Didn't see much point in waiting around for him at his place.”

Fuuma whistled. “That's rough, boss.”

“Whatever, he's a night owl anyway.”

“Yeah, I knew that . . . but what about, you know, the . . . thing? You've been over there every night since he came home from rehab. You work during the day, so like . . . When are you going to see each other?”

“Yeah. It's fine. He's only working three days a week for now.”

Fuuma lifted an eyebrow as he made his move toward his original intended destination. He swiped a soda out of the fridge and popped the top, but just used it to gesture while he talked. “How the hell does he pay the bills? I mean, the twins mentioned they finally got their cut from the studio for the tour, but still. Fai's got like, hospital bills and rehab bills and stuff.”

“If I were forced to guess, I'd say it was thanks to that hit single he recorded with a pop star. But it's funny, I don't actually ask him questions like that because it's none of my goddamn business.”

“Oh, right, that. What are you cooking? Also, has anyone ever told you that you have a very subtle way of making your point? You're the emperor of subtlety.”

“Chili. Black beans and ground turkey and since I am the Emperor of Subtlety, I won't tell you that I've been researching healthy cooking tips because my roommate is looking kinda chunky lately.”

Fuuma just stared at him for a moment, and stared down at the can of soda in his hand.

His fifteen minutes of fame had occurred during a minor drama club production in his freshman year of university, in which they had needed a ridiculously stereotyped character for three whole lines of dialogue and Fuuma, bored with color filters on the lights, had enthusiastically volunteered.

He placed a hand on his chest, fingers curled just so, formed his mouth into a 'o' of outrage, and said in the campiest voice he could conjure up, “Oh, bitch, you did _not_.”

Kurogane gaped at him, completely dumbfounded. Fuuma enjoyed the moment, and then slapped a hand on his bare stomach, which had indeed acquired some unnecessary padding since their return from the concert tour.

“Okay,” he said, gesturing with the soda again. “Point A: you are totally a snarky asshole and you know it. Point B: I appreciate the fact that you care and you're a real sweetheart even if point A still stands. Point C: you brought it up so now you are required to listen to me babble nervously about why I stopped taking good care of my body and if it has anything to do with my regret about giving up basketball and if it's a cry for attention because I'm lonely and whether I honestly just don't mind being kinda chunky because let's face it I still have this chiselled jaw and pretty eyes and am hot as hell. Point . . . something: actually, I don't think I had a next point.”

“Just my own two cents, but it could be because the possibility of a relationship with Kamui has died and you don't care about impressing them anymore,” Kurogane said mildly as he shook some kind of spice into the pot.

“I did have a Point E!” Fuuma remembered after taking a slightly extravagant swig of Dr. Pepper, to prove that he was unconcerned, just _watch_ him dump all this sugar down his throat. “You promised to teach me to cook, and you didn't. Which brings me back to Point A. Was point A the one where you're a jerk?”

“So what was Point D, or did we skip that one on purpose?” Kurogane replied, and then held out a spoonful of chili. “Here. I have no idea if you even like chili.”

Fuuma minced forward and ate the bite without even taking the spoon into his own hand. He did so enjoy being the unpredictable one. “Fucking fantastic, I absolutely like chili,” he said. “Point D was the most important point, so I saved it for last. Point D is that I am not . . . sure, exactly, about the possibility of a relationship with Kamui. It's still on life support. Maybe.”

“Seriously? You're still hanging onto this?” Kurogane frowned, like the nosy asshole he was.

He was lucky, Fuuma reminded himself. He could have had a roommate that didn't give a shit and then he would have had precisely two entire friends his whole life. Having three was good. It almost made up for not having a family or a boyfriend or a college degree or basketball career or whatever.

“Okay, look boss, I don't care what you—”

“Whoa, no, I am not judging you, calm down. But I haven't sucked you off since, like, September and now I feel bad because I'm pretty sure Kamui is the only other person allowed down there and that's not happening.”

“Yeah, don't be too concerned. If it was possible to die of blue balls, that would have been _before_ you made that offer.”

“If it was possible to die of blue balls,” Kurogane returned in a wry voice, “I would have dropped dead sometime in the past few weeks.”

“You and Fai _still_ aren't doing the do?”

“This definitely fits into the category of things that are none of your goddamn business. It was a mutual decision, I am not talking about the details with _you_ , and _fuck_ why did I bring up blow jobs?”

. . . and the memory of getting no-strings-attached blowjobs from a guy who was really, really good at them and never made it weird was not a good thought to mull over while wearing only a towel.

The buzzer for the call button for their apartment went off.

Kurogane glanced down at the towel issue, and smirked a little. “Fuuma, please go put that away. Whats-his-face down the hall probably forgot his key again.”

Fuuma did a complete mental review of his day learning about installing solar photovoltaics as he scurried to his bedroom. Solar photovoltaic installation was not remotely sexy, even if it was good for the environment. He was supposed to be able to remember the regulations for solar cables by the end of the week because there would be a test. Photovoltaic wiring, yes, that was helping.

There were voices in the living room, which meant not a neighbour, which meant someone was over, which never happened and therefore was interesting. He got himself sufficiently clothed and decided not to bother worrying about his hair  _or_ the fact that his pants were actually getting hard to button because  _whatever_ .

Either of the twins, or Touya or Yukito, or even Sakura, none of these would have come as a surprise. Shizuka, though, was somewhat unusual. He was just sort of standing in the middle of the room staring into the kitchen. Fuuma didn't actually work for the company yet, so had only seen Shizuka that day a few months ago when they got the coffee. He looked shitty. Really tired and sort of . . . empty.

“Yo,” Fuuma said tentatively. “What's up?”

Shizuka nodded at him. “Hey.” His mouth was a grim line. “Kurogane, can we . . .?”

“Oh, you need me out of your hair, no problem. That's cool,” Fuuma said, catching on quickly. “Boss, mind if I take the car? I'll just . . . go hang out with the twins.”

“No, don't do that,” Shizuka said, frowning. “I just wanted to talk to Kurogane. I interrupted dinner, looks like,” he said, glancing again at the stove. “You guys should eat. I can . . . come back later.”

Kurogane's hand fell on his shoulder. “Don't be an idiot. It's no secret you've been stressed out, but I'm not an idiot either. Something happened. Come on, come to my room. Let's talk, and you can eat dinner with us later. What's going on?”

Fuuma could have, like, plugged his ears with his fingers or something, but then Shizuka could have waited until Kurogane shut the bedroom door before he answered if he didn't want Fuuma to know.

“I just got dumped,” he muttered.

“That twitchy little freak _broke up with you_?”

“Okay, you know what, _don't_ ,” Shizuka snarled, and then the door slammed shut.

Fuuma stirred the pot of chili. “Shiiit,” he drawled to himself, thinking about Fai at work with his relationship with Kurogane sitting in limbo and with no idea that Kurogane's boyfriend of four years was now single, emotionally distraught, and in Kurogane's bedroom. “Soap opera time.”

 

* * *

 

_(five years and six months ago)_

 

There was

Blood on knuckles

He had been thinking about his guitar?

He had put his guitar in the back of his closet, and he had come to the kitchen—

Blood trailing over his wrist, heading for his elbow. He stretched his hand out, felt pain, let the drips run off his fingers onto the floor instead of getting on his clothes.

There was crumbs and dust from the drywall scattered on his bare feet. There was a hole.

A hole in the wall. His blood streaked pink on the ragged edges. There were his knuckles, torn open. There was all the evidence right in front of him. He had punched a hole in the wall.

He didn't remember doing this. As soon as that thought hit him, that thought that he hadn't done this consciously, that he'd blacked out or gone into a rage enough to do this without _noticing—_ it made him feel really sick. Like he was going to throw up.

He shuffled a few steps backward to shake the dust off his feet. He didn't like this, because he knew that he was having a hard time lately with acting violent, but he at least knew when he was doing it, and now he didn't know. This was bad. Really, really bad.

. . . but did it matter?

He'd just been on the phone with Touya earlier, and he could still feel the question not being asked like a lingering bad taste in the back of his throat. _When are you coming home?_ It was too complicated to talk to him. Any of them. They were keeping a place for him at the table without knowing he didn't fit in the same space anymore.

He didn't really do much anymore, but he hadn't told Touya that. He'd said he was doing better.

Better was going to the grocery store when he was hungry, instead of not eating. Doing his laundry regularly because he now noticed when his clothes were dirty. Using the gym facilities in his apartment building because he needed to not be contained in these particular walls but couldn't grasp at not having walls at all. He didn't talk to people, not even at A.A. Meetings. He spent most of his meagre savings on microwaveable dinners and e-books.

He had lost so much weight, and had a panic attack when the lady overseeing the self-checkout at the store had asked him a question. He needed to find a job soon if he didn't want to be homeless.

He'd blacked out and punched a hole in his kitchen wall.

“I know you're home!”

Someone was knocking on his door. Here he was all covered in bits of his wall and his own blood dripping onto the cheap linoleum, and whoever it was, they weren't going away. The knocking would stop for a few seconds and then start up again.

“Let's go, Kurogane!” someone said, voice muffled. Touya? Even after he said he understood not to?

He wrapped a kitchen towel around his hand and strode over to answer the door.

“Kurogane,” the shorter man greeted him, amber eyes sweeping from his head down to his feet and making him feel immediately on his guard.

“Shizuka? What are you doing here?”

Shizuka's eyes had landed on the towel and were fixed there, but he didn't look upset or even curious. Just calm. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

Shizuka shrugged, and leaned against the doorframe like it didn't concern him in the least. “I was talking to Touya, the other day. He said you were starting to do better, but you didn't want to see the family and he's been worried about the basic stuff. You know, eating and sleeping and that kind of thing.”

“He asked you to come check on me and make sure I eat?” Kurogane asked, too disbelieving and slightly embarrassed to be angry. He was . . . worried about being angry. Apparently he broke walls when he was angry. He couldn't be angry right now.

“He didn't exactly ask. And I didn't exactly volunteer. I just decided I'd drop by and see if you'd let me in.”

“Well, I'm not going to,” Kurogane said, thinking only about the hole in his kitchen wall that would be totally visible form the door if Shizuka took just a step to his right.

“It's your house,” Shizuka shrugged. “Let's go out somewhere, then.”

“What the hell is this, Shizuka?”

“It's an intervention, what does it look like?” It was deadpan, but there was so much challenge in his eyes that Kurogane stopped caring if he got too angry and didn't actually consciously decide to hit him in his smug face, so long as the smug face got hit.

“Fuck you,” he responded, and tried to slam the door. Shizuka got his foot in the way. He didn't even wince as the door crushed his foot.

“You don't get to lock yourself up in here for the rest of your life just because someone else died,” he said. Kurogane's throat dried up, and he was stuck on Shizuka's eyes. They were so . . . “You are still here, and I am your friend, and I will not _let_ you.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Kurogane couldn't bring his voice above a whisper.

“We could go to the hardware store and get supplies to fix your wall. Or grab something to eat, go catch a movie. The point is, if I'm not coming in then you're leaving with me.”

“You don't get it,” Kurogane muttered. “I can't go out today.”

“Fine. Then let me in. Talk to me, fuck me, fight me, I don't care, just do something and think about somebody other than yourself for a minute.”

“Wait,” Kurogane muttered, trying to make sense of that. “Wait, what?”

“Fight, fuck, or feed me. Your choice.”

“You . . . are you serious?”

Shizuka didn't seem to need any clarification on why Kurogane was asking. He shifted his weight slightly, drew his foot out of the door. His jaw and eyes said determination, not lust, and yet . . .

Kurogane grabbed him, dragged him inside, flung him up against the wall. Slammed the door shut by checking it with his hip, even while his hands were nailing Shizuka's shoulders down. The kiss he dropped on him was pure rage, but it was met. Shizuka kissed back. Ferociously.

With a growl in his throat, he threw a right hook straight at Shizuka's eye. The bastard ducked under it and came up swinging. He didn't miss; Kurogane stumbled back when an uppercut caught him under the chin. Breathless, he grabbed onto the other man and dragged him into another kiss.

Shizuka couldn't push Kurogane away and was panting for air, and Kurogane was growling with everything flooding into him that needed to be satiated. Finally Shizuka got a handful of Kurogane's hair and yanked him back, hard.

“Enough,” he gasped. “It's one or the other, I don't mix the two together.”

Kurogane's response was to push him into the wall again and send a trail of sucking kisses and shuddering hot breaths down his neck. He didn't care. He didn't care which one Shizuka was more interested in. Let Shizuka decide. But his blood was pumping furiously.

Shizuka's hand was already on his cock, somehow the man had gotten Kurogane's fly open while he was distracted by the sound of his own pulse in his ears. He seemed to be in no hurry, trailing his fingers along the hard shaft and humming with pleasure as Kurogane reached under his shirt and tweaked at his nipple.

“Bedroom,” Shizuka gasped.

“Later,” Kurogane grunted and dropped to his knees. He fumbled Shizuka's fly open with hands shaking with eagerness. “Oh god, yes,” he mumbled as he drew the erection free of Shizuka's clothes. “Yes, I want this buried so far up my ass I choke on it.”

“What?” Shizuka responded, looking truly surprised for the first time since Kurogane had known him.

“What?” Kurogane drawled, and licked a slow stripe.

“Oh, _fuck._ ”

“You're going to fuck me until I can't see straight,” Kurogane informed him seriously. “But I'm going to make you beg for the privilege first.”

Shizuka's eyes flared, for a second, into something like panic.

“Can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen,” Kurogane said, and without missing a beat slurped Shizuka's dick into his mouth and set to work.

 

* * *

 

_(five years and eleven months ago)_

 

“Kurogane, you are doing the thing,” Yukito called out to him from several steps behind him in the parking lot.

It was really unfair for people to have legs that long.

Kurogane immediately shortened his stride a bit, which coincidentally made him stop swaggering. He thought Yukito was training him to walk slower; he had no idea that he was an asshole who swaggered and that Yukito's private mission was to make Kurogane—and Touya for that matter—knock it off. They were getting invited to play at clubs and venues all over town, and they were getting a little big for their britches. It was Yukito's opinion that one shouldn't swagger when one hadn't even been signed to a record label yet. And even then, Yukito would take it under advisement.

Not that he was actually going to say that out loud to either his boyfriend or best friend, because there were some flaws you could point out to your men, and there were some you just had to quietly train out of them.

“Hey, is it cool if I wanna do some shopping and stay a while?” Kurogane asked. “It's the puppy's birthday soon and I know he wants a couple of things.”

“Yeah, sure, I'm not in a hurry.”

“What.”

“What do you mean, what?”

“You're smirking at me, Yuki.”

“Come on, you know you can't call me Yuki anymore, we're not kids.”

“Don't change the subject, Yuki.”

“Syaoran's birthday is in three months, Kuro.”

“Kuro? Ew.”

“See?”

“That's different.”

“How is it different?”

“It just is. And so what about his damn birthday?”

“It's just adorable that you're already looking at birthday presents,” Yukito insisted, reaching up and pinching a cheek. “Because you are an adorable person.” Kurogane was gigantic and was twenty one years old and people tended to be intimidated. Yukito was not worried, because he had the insider knowledge that Kurogane was nothing but a ridiculous overgrown baby.

Sure enough, he squawked out, “Oh come on, don't!” and blushed all over.

“Yeah, but you kinda are, though,” drawled a voice from off to their left.

It was Shizuka, strolling between two rows of electronics shelves to meet them.

“Fuck off, Shizuka,” Kurogane responded.

“Welcome to Guitar World, gentleman, how can I help you today?” was Shizuka's reponse.

“You can help me by losing the smirk and showing me where you assholes moved the guitar straps to, lunkhead. Syaoran's sixteen soon and he's going through a fucking phase, I swear. Everything has to have skulls or some shit on it.”

“He was in here last week and was poking around in there. In the section with guitar straps that hasn't moved in the entire five years I have worked in this store. I will show you the ones he likes, because I paid attention, because I know that you start shopping for his birthday vaguely before fucking Christmas, because you're a nerd. Come on.”

Five years Shizuka had been working at this store, and five years they'd been getting advice and assistance from him as they slowly went from merely entertaining the idea of being a band to actually becoming one. For whatever reason, they just hadn't been running in the same circles in high school, but after they all graduated, they'd started hanging out with him more. Shizuka had parked his ass in front of Touya's Xbox and eaten Fujitaka's cooking plenty of times by now.

That was five years Shizuka and Kurogane had been aimlessly flirting with one another and driving Yukito absolutely _nuts_.

“Would you two just fuck already so we can all get on with our lives,” he muttered. “You don't even like each other that much, so just get it out of your system.”

“Um . . . can I help you find something?” the startled teenaged girl at his elbow blurted out, wearing a nametag that told him that she was Cindy and was still in training.

Startled, he jumped about three feet in the air before managing a graceful enough smile and the words, “No, thank you.”

He went over to the counter in the middle of the store to ask if the book they'd special-ordered him had come in yet. There was a tall, lanky blond guy already there, leaning against the counter and looking sort of . . . haggard and sad. Shizuka had somehow surgically removed himself from being attached to Kurogane's hip and insulting him nonstop, and was instead at the counter, talking quietly to this sad blond person.

Surprisingly, he reached over and squeezed the guy's hand, and pressed a string of beads into it.

“These are my prayer beads, they used to belong to my gramps. I want you to hang on to them for a while.”

“I can't take these,” the blond guy said, trying to hand them back.

“Just for now. Just . . . take them for a while, okay?”

It struck Yukito rather abruptly that Shizuka was the kind of person who was never going to volunteer information about himself, and if Yukito had wanted to know that he was apparently religious, he should have asked him. And he apparently had other people he was very close to, because wow, who let a friend borrow something like that.

The guy mumbled something and pocketed the beads and swiped at his eyes and brushed around Yukito without looking up.

“Yukito, I have your book,” Shizuka said mildly, holding it up, but his eyes were following the path that the other guy was taking out of the store.

“Is he okay?” Yukito asked quietly as he approached to grab his book.

Shizuka could give you this look that made you feel kind of ashamed of yourself. He was giving the look.

“I know it's none of my business,” he said. “Thanks for getting this for me.”

“Hey. Uh. Is Kurogane okay?”

“I am so tempted to give you the look right back,” Yukito sighed. “Why?”

Shizuka lifted his eyebrow. “Because he smells like liquor and it's one in the afternoon?”

“First time you noticed that?” Yukito couldn't help but snap.

“No. Just first time I had the opportunity to ask without him overhearing if you guys need any help with that, because he's a lying liar who lies when I ask him directly.”

“We've got it,” Yukito said firmly. “Me and Touya are working on him.”

“Sure. Let me know if I can do anything.”

“He's fine.”

“Sure,” Shizuka repeated mildly.

Yukito couldn't help but notice that Shizuka had a furrowed line down his forehead that didn't go away the entire time he and Kurogane were shopping, though. Which, fair enough. Yukito wasn't the world's most convincing liar either.

 

* * *

 

Fuuma had fallen asleep on the couch because watching t.v. was how he avoided walking past Kurogane's bedroom door and hearing what he was talking to Shizuka about or whether they were doing their talking with their bodies or whatever.

Plausible deniability.

It probably would have been more convincing if he was physically not present in the apartment, but he wasn't going to ask to borrow Kurogane's car specifically so he could deny any knowledge of this encounter if Fai asked about it.

So he was the one who opened the door when somebody starting knocking at two-thirty a.m.

“Fai?” he said blearily. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Being helpful,” Fai said, holding up a string of what looked like wooden beads.

“Voodoo curses?”

“What? No. They're Shizuka's prayer beads. He sometimes lets me hang onto them when I'm going through hard times, it's his way of being emotionally supportive. He gave them to me right before I checked into the clinic last month.”

“Right.”

“Kurogane called me earlier and told me Shizuka's laying in his bed saying he doesn't want to be a Buddhist anymore because he's sick of accepting suffering and maybe he just wants to be attached to something for once. So I thought maybe now was a good time to bring these back.”

“Wow. I didn't . . . know you were that close to him.”

“Are they keeping you awake or something?” Fai asked as he slipped into the apartment, gesturing at the low-volume television flickering in the dark.

“Oh. No, they're pretty quiet. I was just, uh, kinda worried, I guess.”

“Shizuka's pretty tough, he'll be okay.”

“No, yeah, I figured. Uh. I think I'll go to bed, then.”

“Goodnight,” Fai said, still looking slightly confused about what Fuuma was up to. Which was fine, Fuuma was also a little confused. And possibly this was why you shouldn't make assumptions. It made an ass out of you and . . . umption.

He had never had a breakup (unless he was counting the weird road-trip arrangement with Kurogane being over), so he didn't know how they were supposed to go. Still, he wouldn't have thought they could cause a religious crisis.

“Thank god Kamui doesn't even want me,” he mumbled as he flopped into bed. “If they did, I'd probably find Jesus or keel over dead or something.”

His phone buzzed with a text message. He palmed it off the nightstand and squinted at it.

_Sorry if this wakes u up. Couldn't sleep and was thinking too much and just wanted 2 say how awesome ur being about everything lately. U mean a lot to me. thanks._

“Oh my god, I'm borrowing the prayer beads when the sad sack in there is done with them,” he moaned, and buried his face in his pillow.

 


End file.
